


A New Chapter Or a Whole Book?

by LittleSilverKitsune



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College Parties, College dorks doing dorky college things, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Funny (I hope), Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Multi, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSilverKitsune/pseuds/LittleSilverKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Marco Bott's first year at college. He is thousands of miles from his home town and everything he recognizes. Little does he know his whole life will get flipped upside-down and he will go from being that loser that sits around, does homework, and has no friends to being that slightly less of a loser who is friends with a group of the most socially awkward, hot-headed idiots he has ever met in his entire life. He even falls for an especially hot-headed guy with a bad attitude who ends up being his everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Beginning To My Crazy Life

Hello there. My name is Marco Bott. I'm 18 years old and this story is basically just an in-depth look at my awkward freshman year of College. My awkward friends, my awkward hobbies, my awkward roommates, my awkward teachers, and most importantly, my awkward boyfriend.

Yes, my awkward boyfriend.

I guess I should start the story, I would rather not ramble on and on and bore you all to death.

* * *

 

It was about 12 in the afternoon and I had finally finished packing. It was early summer, about a week before the beginning of my very first semester of college.

I was jittery and nervous, but at the same time my excitement was practically making little fireworks come out of my ears, "Marco! Are you almost ready?"

My mother's kind voice called up to me from the kitchen and I grabbed my suitcase and duffle bag, "Yep! Coming!"

My parents were waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me. They were smiling and mom had tears brimming her eyes, "Oh... Oh, Marco in so proud of you..." She stammered, pressing her palms together and and putting them up against her lips to hold back a happy sob.

Dad chuckled and put his hands on her shoulders, grinning at me, "Great job, son. I can't believe my little boy is going to become a doctor!"

I couldn't help but laugh, "Thanks you guys! But I'm only going to get my Bachelor's Degree for now. I won't be a doctor for years now!"

My father smiled lovingly. I had always liked to think that I'd gotten my dad's smile. It was always so kind and the way the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkled just had some sort of incredibly friendly air to it, "I know, I know... I just can't help but be proud though!"

I nodded a slight agreement. I'll admit, I was beginning to get choked up. My parents had paid for half my tuition to go to Freedom College and they had always supported me in my desire to be a family doctor and I really truly couldn't thank them enough, "Thank you both so much..."

That's all I could manage before I broke down crying and grabbed both my parents up in a hug like a blubbering little child.

I was taller than both of them so it was pretty easy to grab them both up and half smother them. I really savored this moment. It would be the last good family hug for quite a while.

Why you may ask? Freedom College was so far away I had to take a plane to get there. A plane and then a good 15 to 20 minute long bus ride.

"Hath bubby weft yet?!"

A squeaky, childish voice that had a pretty noticeable lisp from an even more noticeable lack of two front teeth rang from the hallway and in moments my five year old brother, barely coming up to my hip, barreled into me latched on to the leg of my jeans, "Bubby!"

I laughed and scooped him up in my arms, "Hey, champ! Finally decided to leave your Lego's alone long enough to bid your ol' brother farewell?"

His bright blue eyes (which he'd gotten from his mother) looked up at me curiously, "What does 'bid' and f... 'farewell' mean?"

I laughed, "It means say goodbye."

A big, practically toothless smile came over his pudgy freckles cheeks, "Oh! Then I did come to farewell bid you!"

I smiled at his innocence, "God, I hope you never grow up, Lucas."

He pouted up at me, "No! Don't call me Lucath! I'm _Luke_ remember? It thounds a lot cooler."

I nodded as though intrigued, "Right, right! I can't believe I forgot!"

Lucas nodded with a passion, "Yeah! And I wanna grow up. Tho I can uthe big wordth like you, bubby!"

I laughed again. _God_ that lisp was the cutest little kid thing ever, "Yeah... You'll be able to use big words soon enough!"

His passionate nod returned, "And I'll be able to read and write and maybe I'll even play piano and guitar!"

That sparked something in me, "Oh! My guitar! Thanks for reminding me, Luke!"

I sat him back on his feet and sprinted up the stairs three at a time, flinging open the door to my room and grabbing the black hard leather case of my acoustic guitar. I grabbed my binder of sheet music (which contained both piano and guitar) and proceeded to sprint back down the stairs.

I almost killed myself in the process, but I made it in time for the final kisses goodbye to my parents.

"I'm gonna miss you guys..." I said, smiling a bittersweet smile.

"We're going to miss you too, dear." My mother said through sobs she failed to hold back.

I tossed them my spare car key so they could come pick up my vehicle after I'd left on the plane, "I'll make sure to call you guys! Every day if I can!"

I waved my iPhone at them for emphasis and chuckled, "You'd better!" My father said, putting on a brave face.

"We'll pay that... Uh..." Lucas murmured, deep in thought.

"Bill?" I assumed since we'd been on the topic of my phone.

"Yeah!! Bill! We'll pay Bill so your phone keeps working!" He said with a smile as proud as a kid who'd just won a plastic gold medal at his first sports event.

I laughed and so did my parents. He thought they payed a person names Bill to keep my phone and theirs running. _Oh my God. Please never grow up, Lucas._

"Bye, guys! I love you!"

 A muffled sound of "we love you too’s” rang from inside the house as I stepped outside and put my suitcase and duffle bag in the trunk.

I got in the car and put my guitar in the passenger seat.

I put my key into the ignition of my car and started the radio.

Finally, after sitting in the driveway of my home for at least five minutes I nudged the gas pedal and backed out onto the road.

I backed out of the driveway of the house I'd lives in since I was six. I drove down the road I had learned how to ride a bike without training wheels when I was eight. I drove past the whether-worn basketball hoops at the home of a friend of mine that had already left for college that I'd played street basketball at since I was 12, and eventually, I drove out of the city I'd come to call home towards a distant airport in the middle of nowhere that would take me to a whole new chapter of life.

A new adventure in the book of the life of Marco Bott was going to take off in about an hour and a half... And I wasn't quite sure if I was ready for it anymore.

No, I wasn't ready for it. I was going to _make_ myself ready for it.

_Well... College, here I come._


	2. College Seems Great... For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco has a heck of a time getting to college and finally meets his incredibly friendly roommate.

I really had gotten here early. Really freaking early.

My plane took off at 3:00 and I was here at 1:30.

Different ideas of what I could do ran through my mind. I could go back home and spend some more time with my family…

No. I'd be _late_ to my plane if I did that.

I decided on the only logical idea. Sit in the damn terminal for an hour and 30 minutes and wait for this dumb plane.

Sighing softly I slung my duffle bag into the empty seat next to me and propped my suitcase and guitar up against the same chair.

The terminal was virtually empty (of which I was thankful) and it didn't appear anyone was in the mood to engage conversation with me. Hopefully it would  _stay_ like this, and maybe I'd be super lucky and not have to sit by anyone on the plane!

Of course though, as minutes turned into an hour people began to come in, and unfortunately for me it was mostly families with small children.

There were a couple other people who looked like they could be college students who were also going to fly in to Trost. Whether they would be attending Freedom College or the four year college, Trost University, I didn't have a clue.

Once there were young children screaming or crying or babbling on in excited voices about visiting Trost, the minutes seemed to tick by slower and slower. As if Father Time liked to watch the muscles under my eyes twitch or enjoyed the sound of the dull click and grind of my teeth as I forced both sets of pearly whites together.

 _I have to sit on a plane with these little demons for a fucking hour._ I thought in complete and utter annoyance. Then I realized that at one point in time I'd been that little boy standing with his nose pressed against the window to watch the people filling the gas tank of the plane. After that realization I forced myself to calm down. I even smiled a little.

Finally, after the most agonizing 20 to 30 minutes of my entire life we were called to board the plane, and again I was overcome with that sickening feeling of not wanting to. Those butterflies that bounced around inside your stomach and your chest and told you to turn around and give up came back.

_No. I'm doing this. My parents paid for it. I've worked too hard for this._

I turned in my luggage and begrudgingly kept my guitar with me instead of my duffle bag. If this thing got broken I would have caused a huge scene. I was 18 and didn't want to do something like that in front of little kids who would be politely holding their mother's hands.

In other words, I'd look hella stupid if someone broke my guitar.

I put the instrument in the overhead compartment once I'd gotten onto the plane and then took my seat next to the window.

I was thankful for the window seat. It meant I didn't have to sit on the outside by all the people jostling into the small hallway of the plane.

I had high hopes that no one would sit beside me, and no one did for quite a while, until a cute little old lady shuffled over and took her place next to me, "Hello, dear." She said in that old lady voice that everyone loves

I smiled kindly at her, "Hello, ma'am. How're you?"

"Doing good for my age." She laughed quietly.

I gave a fake laugh, just to be kind, "Happy to hear it!"

She made a small noise of affirmation and our conversation fizzled out to an uncomfortable silence. I tried and failed to come up with some sort of topic, and opted to instead plugging my headphones into my phone and listening to music.

We were shortly up in the air and then granny beside me looked like she'd stopped breathing.

I almost lost my shit when I glanced over to see her head tilted back with her mouth hanging open.

I pulled one of the padded earpieces off my ear and turned down my music until it was barely audible so I could listen to see if she was breathing.

She was breathing alright. In fact she was snoring so loudly that I would have preferred her be awake and talking to me.

Sighing softly in relief I turned my music back up and fixed my headphones to their original position.

Low and behold it got better.

I felt a light thunk on my shoulder and looked over to see that this lady's head had fallen to the side to rest on my shoulder.

My only thoughts were, _could this get any worse?_

Guess what. _It. Fucking. Did._

A little kid behind me started to kick my seat and anytime I asked him to stop he stuck his bratty tongue out at me and kicked extra hard.

What makes it better is that he wasn't with his parents. They had _let_ him sit by _himself_.

I had no savior in this horrid situation, and I wasn't about to shove some innocent sleeping old lady off my shoulder. So, I grit my teeth and watched out my window in an attempt to ignore granny on my shoulder and fucking kangaroo boy behind me.

 _This sucks_.

* * *

 

After an agonizing two hours the plane finally touched down on the asphalt to let us off at the Trost airport.

I was off that plane so fast you wouldn't even _believe_.

I waited at the conveyor belt that would (I prayed) have my luggage on it so I could catch the bus and get to my college already.

Of course, the world had other ideas for Marco Bott.

It isn't that they hadn't loaded my luggage on to the plane, it's the fact that they had failed to _unload_ my damn stuff on the conveyor belt. Thank God that hellish plane was still here otherwise I would have forced them at gun-point to give me 3,000 dollars to go buy a new laptop and clothes.

Okay, so that's an exaggeration. I didn't even _have_ a gun on me.

Haha... Again, just joking. I wouldn't kill anyone. Promise.

They apologized for the inconvenience and I faked kindness, telling them that it was fine.

I hung my duffle bag over my shoulder and with the handle of my suitcase in one hand and my guitar slung cross-ways on my back, I made my way out into the hot, fading sunshine of Trost.

I liked the place immediately. It was kind of a homey sort of area. The buildings in this part were crowded together and the streets were bustling with all different sorts of people, but from research I'd done on the region, the colleges were in more quiet parts of Trost. Specifically Freedom College, surrounded by forest on all but the entrance side of the campus.

As much as I would have loved to sight see, I had much more important matters to address. Like getting to college already. It was almost 6:00 and I was starting to get hungry. _A little food before I go wouldn't be too bad... Right? I thought._

Wrong. I was so. Fucking. Wrong.

It's not like the McDonalds was hard to find or get to or anything. Actually, it was perfect. The restaurant was right on a sidewalk with a bus stop! The problem was the mass amounts of _people_ that flooded fast food joint.

I ordered and took my food outside. I wasn't eating in there. That place was so jam packed that it felt like the air conditioning wasn't even on. Not to mention the _smell_.

Fast food and sweaty people is one of the most vomit inducing scents that has ever come to waft around my nose... and I never wanted to smell it again.

I ate on the bench and threw some pieces of bun from my burger to the fat pigeons that were waddling around my feet. It was kind of cute how comfortable the birds were with people. I liked it.

The birds flew off as a big bus that was virtually empty stopped in front of the bench.

A grin spread across my face and I got on, "Where ya goin, kid?" The bus driver asked in a scratchy voice that sounded 100% exhausted.

"Freedom College." I said softly.

"Good. So are they." He said, thrusting a fat thumb backwards to point at the college-aged kids spread sporadically around the bus.

I nodded slightly and sat away from them all in my own little space, putting my duffle bag in the seat next to me to ensure I would not be sat beside.

* * *

 

The excitement of getting to the beautiful college had faded almost instantly when I walked into the registration office.

"Who might you be, sir?" The woman sitting at the desk asked me.

"M-Marco Bott." I stammered nervously. I had the jitters again.

She typed on her computer and smiled, "Ah! Here you are!"

She shuffled around behind the desk, grabbing some random papers from a big file cabinet and a card that had my picture on it, "This is your pass to get into and out of the campus and other dorm buildings,  and here's your schedule and a map of the campus! You'll be in the Maria building on the western-most side."

That had been way too much to take in at once. So, in a daze I said thank you, put my laminated pass into my pocket, and took the papers, leaving the registration building.

I was _hella_ confused.

I'd put my schedule in my duffle bag to look at later and was now standing by a huge fountain that was in front of the main building.

This was shit. They didn't have people standing around to help you, other confused kids with luggage were cursing and getting mad at each other when they bumped into one another, and _holy shit_ were there some foul mouthed, hot-heads at this school.

Using the fountain as a sort of landmark, I walked down a cobbled path towards one of the three dorm buildings.

 _I have a one-in-three chance that this is Maria.... Or was I in Rose?_ My thoughts jumbled and mashed together into some nonsense of confusion until I stood in front of a set of frosted glass doors.

Above the doors read _MARIA_ in pretty writing and all capital letters carved into the stone of the building.

I pushed on the door and walked in to find a long, white linoleum hallway with multiple branches leading off in even intervals, "I can help you over here, sir!" A kind voice called from a side office.

I went over to the counter a woman stood at and smiled slightly, "Name?"

"Ah... Marco Bott." Yes, I had momentarily forgotten my name.

"You're in room 78. Your roommate is Bertholdt Fubar."

I nodded a thanks as she handed me my dorm key and proceeded to the elevator in the back of the hallway, pressing the button for the third floor.

Too much was going through my head and at this very moment the only thing that stood out was the thought: _what the hell kinda name is Bertholdt Fubar?_

The elevator _ding!_ shook me out of my little trance and I walked along more linoleum floor to the back of the hallway.

I turned the doorknob to find it unlocked. I guessed Bertholdt was there already.

I pushed open the heavy, ugly green colored door to find a large room with deep brown walls and more white linoleum flooring.

An incredibly tall boy with black hair turned around swiftly with a nervous look on his face, but relaxed quickly, "O-oh... Hi, you must be Marco."

His voice was incredibly friendly despite his intimidating size. He also looked like he'd been at work for hours. He was drenched in sweat, "Yep! And you must be Bertholdt?"

He nodded and swiped his forearm across his dripping face, "Mhm! I hope you don't mind that I took that room." He said, pointing.

I laughed, "Nah, I don't care! This is really nice..."

"Yeah, I was surprised!"

It really was. There were two small bedrooms with an full size bed and a desk in each and then a small sort of living room area that branched off to a single bathroom near the back of the room.

I understood why Bertholdt was so worn out now, too. He had hooked a somewhat small flat screen TV up to a wall and had a freaking couch in the living room space already, "Two little gifts my parents gave me... I decided to wait to do any sort of... Decorating just in case my roommate wasn't into that." He laughed.

"Dude, this is awesome! Of course I'll help decorate this place!" I said with a wide smile.

Bertholdt's grin was huge and I could tell we were both relieved that our roommate was friendly.

So far, college was going _perfectly_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this it shouldn't be too much more filler! Some of the other main characters will finally come into play. XD
> 
> Thanks for reading! See you in the next chapter!


	3. A College "Party"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco makes more odd friends, Jean kisses pillows, and someone gets a boyfriend.

College wasn't even in session yet and I already loved it. Bertholdt was the friendliest guy I'd ever met and these dorm rooms were _nice_.

I was getting along great. Until there was a knock on the door and a bulky, blonde guy burst in with a box in one arm and his other firmly attached to the collar of boy with a two-toned undercut, "Bertholdt!"

The big blonde guy's voice was booming loud and echoed almost painfully in the almost empty room, "Oh! Reiner! You have the rugs?"

Reiner smiled and plopped the box down on the couch, grinning at a nervous looking Bertholdt, "Got 'em! It was a hell of a challenge though. Jean didn't wanna get off his lazy ass."

"Oh shut up, Reiner." The guy with the undercut huffed, plopping down beside the box. 

I was timid to approach. The guy seemed like he was eternally pissed off. A scowl was plastered to his face and his arms were crossed over his chest. Otherwise, though, there was _nothing_ intimidating about this guy named Jean, "Who's this?" The blonde apparently named Reiner questioned.

"Th-that's my roommate, M-Marco." Bertholdt stammered.

I smiled kindly as Reiner grabbed my hand in a firm handshake.

Let me tell you, firm was a _shitty_ word to describe Reiner's grip. It was _crushing_ , "Nice to meet you!" I practically squeaked.

Finally the guy let go and I could feel the blood in my fingertips again, "Sounds like your roommate hasn't gone through puberty."

That voice was so fucking _snotty_ , "Well, I have." I said in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

"Good. You'd need a doctor if you'd hadn't."

Then the guy turned around and I got a full view of him. His features looked like they'd been made by a master artist.

He had a sharply defined jawline and perfect, straight white teeth that were set in a playful grin. His dark eyebrows were raised up to give his smile more of a definition, and his _fucking eyes_.

I'm _not_ gay, but his eyes were _gorgeous_. I mean we all have that friend who we'd love to look like, right? Yeah, well at this very moment in time, this dick head named Jean is someone I really wanted to look like.

Jean's eyes were such an intense light brown it looked as though you were looking through brown water... Okay, that sounds bad. I mean brown water like... Crystal clear brown water.

That... Still didn’t sound like a compliment.

Anyways, his eyes were pretty, and I had to drag my gaze away from them in order to give him a small smile, "Yeah... I guess I would."

Bertholdt, bless his soul, saved us all from a horribly awkward moment of uncomfortable silence, "So... The rugs?"

"Right!" Reiner pulled a stack of four decently large, brown area rugs out of the cardboard box and threw them on Jean's lap, "They match the ugly walls." He chuckled.

Bertholdt laughed, "They do!"

"Thank _God_ you didn't get those neon colored ones you were lookin' at. We would have looked like fuckin' pansies." Jean muttered, tossing the floor rugs to his feet and out of his lap.

Reiner smirked, "Nah, I'll save the neony ones for you."

"I'm not a little gay pansy!" Jean scoffed, flicking his head slightly to the side in order to move his hair out of his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, _Jean_."

Reiner had said the name as _jee-n_ instead of _jsh-ahn_ , and this _clearly_ pissed Jean off, "Call me that again and I'll punch out your fucking teeth."

_That's a bold threat to make to someone like Reiner_... I thought, watching as Reiner just laughed, "Shut up, Jean."

Back to normal. Phew. I didn't want blood on the floor already.

Already? What? I didn't want blood on the floor at all, "Where do you think we should put them?" Bertholdt picked up the rugs from in front of Jean's feet and came over to me.

"Um... Maybe one in each of our bedrooms, one out here, and maybe one in the bathroom?" I said, spewing random ideas.

"I like that!" Bertholdt said, "I'll go put 'em down."

With that, he and Reiner left the room and Jean and I were left to our own uncomfortable selves, "So. Your name's Marco?" Jean said after some silence.

"Mhm, and you're J... Jsh-an."

_Fuck_. Did I seriously just stammer on the guys name?!

"Yeah." He said, not seeming to notice. Thank. God.

"Welp... It's nice to meet you, Jean. Where's your dorm at?" I questioned, hoping I was being friendly.

"Actually, we're literally one floor down from your room."

"We're?" I repeated, unsure.

"Yeah. Reiner and I are roommates." He cocked his brow and shot me a weird look with those intense eyes and I got embarrassed at my stupid question.

"O-oh, d-duh..." I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck.

The damage had been done, though. I'd gone pink in the face and the ears and Jean was grinning like an idiot, "Aaahh... So you're either easily embarrassed... Or gay. Which one?"

I perked up and the look on my face clearly said _WHAT?!_ "I'm easily embarrassed!! Why would you think I was gay?!"

"Because I'm fuckin' hot." Jean smirked, folding his arms behind his head.

I couldn't help it. I burst into a mad giggling fit.

Yes. A mad _giggling_ fit.

It didn't take long for Jean to join into the laughter, "Hey! Rude!"

"Sorry! Sorry, but--!" I was cut off when Reiner busted in with a smirk.

"Jean, quit trying to charm people, you'll never get a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend." He snickered.

"SHUT UP, REINER! I'M NOT GAY!"

This drew a laugh out of all of us, excluding Jean who was grumbling quietly to himself about how stupid we all were and that we should all go 'fuck ourselves'.

"Oh my GOD. I've known you for a day and you make gay jokes left and right. I'm leaving, see you guys later."

And with a middle finger flipped at Reiner, Jean left with the slamming of the door, "He's a hell of a lot of fun to tease..." Reiner snickered, following close after, "See ya!"

It took seconds for him to poke his head back in, "Oh! By the way, a friend of mine is having a party at their place tonight to celebrate the last few days before school. I'm inviting you guys! I'm goin' and I'm gonna force Jean to go as well. Come over around eight if you wanna come!"

Then he left, and Bertholdt dropped his smile and plopped down on the floor, hanging his head in his hands.

I got worried and kneeled down next to him, "Hey, you okay?!"

Bertholdt smiles at me, "Y-yeah, yeah... Fine." A pause, "Can... I trust you with something?..."

I blinked in surprise. This kid already trusted me with stuff? Well, I guess it couldn't hurt. I was curious, "Of course."

Bertholdt sucked in a slow, deep breath of air before speaking, "I-I... I like Reiner... But... With all the gay jokes he makes, it makes me really worried that he wouldn't want to be my friend anymore if I told him I was gay... Especially the fact that I like _him_."

Well, I was hella shocked. I hadn't expected Bertholdt to be gay.

"Hm... I... Don't really know what to tell you... I've figured out that if you like someone, you've gotta tell them, otherwise you could lose them forever. No matter what the risk is."

I was no good with this help stuff, but I wanted to try for this big lug anyways. He was just too s _weet_ to not have the person of his dreams, "I-I understand that... But... What if I ruin our friendship?..."

I smiled and clapped him softly on the back, "If you really, truly like him a lot, you'll do it. No matter what the risk be."

Bertholdt gave an airy laugh, "Easier said than done..."

I chuckled and nodded a bit, "That's true, I won't deny that."

Bertholdt rubbed the back of his neck, "If we go to the party tonight, will you help me get alone with him? I feel like tonight will be one of the few chances I'll have to get Reiner alone without it being... Noticed."

That sounded kind if creepy... But I understood what he meant, "I'll try my best!"

We actually spent the next 30 minutes coming up with a plan of action and once we got around to go, my only thought was: _What the_  fuck _have I just gotten myself into?!_

* * *

 

This thought I had had when we left our dorm continued to ring in my mind until that little voice you have in your head called reason was _fucking singing it in a soprano opera voice_ , "We're taking a couple more people with us." Reiner had told me.

Well, that would have been perfectly fine. If it hadn't been for the fact that Reiner's car was a dumpy, old pick up truck with two seats in it, "Bert and I will sit up front."

"So where the fuck do we sit?" Jean hissed.

"Oh, you will be _laying_ in the back of the truck. Sorry, can't have the police seeing you sitting up back there."

"Go to hell, Reiner." Was the only thing Jean said as we made our way over to the truck.

The thing was _shit_. It had patches of rust speckling the whole surface. The paint that I believed was once blue was now a faded, chipped whitish color. With a hint of blue.

Suddenly, I was really missing my hand-me-down Buick.

"The others should be here soon." Reiner said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to glance at the screen, "Yep, here they come!"

Across the parking lot, we could see a girl with purpley-brown hair running beside a kid with an almost completely shaved head, "Hurry your fat asses up!" Reiner hollered with his hands cupped over his mouth.

"DON'T CALL US FAT, YOU BASTARD." The boy yelled in response, laughing.

I glanced at Bertholdt. He was _not_ happy that the bald kid had called Reiner a bastard.

The two finally came up to us, panting, "This is Connie and Sasha. They eat, drink, and occasionally snort crushed up Smarties."

"We stopped that in ninth grade, Reiner!!" The girl named Sasha huffed, pouting.

"Yeah!" Connie grumbled in response, "It hurt my nose..."

"Well I wonder fuckin' why. Now get in the truck." Reiner smirked, going around to get in the driver's seat.

Bertholdt glanced at me and I gave him a reassuring smile as he got in on the passenger's side. Maybe he'd tell Reiner about his feelings on the ride there and we wouldn't have to perform this plan...

Actually, I wasn't really sure I wanted him to. Reiner seemed like he'd be a hell of a reckless driver without his best friend confessing his gay feelings for him... I pushed these thoughts aside almost instantly as we climbed into the back of the truck.

There was a mattress there and I _really_ wished I could have believed that the only thing that had happened on it was simply other people riding on it to keep from getting hurt... But I doubted it, "This is fucking _nasty_." Jean hissed, laying on his back beside me.

I nodded slightly in agreement and laid on my stomach, kind of watching Sasha and Connie interact.

It's not creepy, I promise.

They acted like they were dating. Or like they were brother and sister. Why do I say this? Because for one thing, they were hella cute together, and for another, they bickered and poked fun at each other like a really good natured couple, "Are you guys dating?"

Way to be fucking blunt Jean. You don't just _ask_ people you've known for 15 minutes if they're dating!!

"H-huh?! No! Sasha's like my sister!" Connie said, giving us a look full of shock.

Sasha gave an equally surprised look and started laughing, "Me? Date _that_?! Hell naw!"

Connie laughed and shoved her over, "Shut the fuck up, potato girl."

"Would you not." She laughed but also had a slightly irritable tone in her voice.

"Potato girl?..." I questioned.

"The first moment I met her, she was eating a freaking potato like you would eat an apple. She was fuckin' walking around on the high school campus _eating a potato_." Connie busted up laughing, and it earned him another punch in the arm from Sasha.

Jean laughed, "Why a potato?"

Sasha grumbled some sort of remark that no one understood and Jean just shrugged. After that, we were cast back into our own little groups of two.

I found myself looking at Jean out of the corner of my eye. The way his hair rippled in the wind and caught the summer sun, the way the light casted mottled shadows on his pale skin, but most importantly those _eyes_.

He looked completely at peace, staring up at the sky. Watching the tree branches race by, listening to the wind and the coo's of the birds. His intense, light brown irises stood out with how his pupils were shrunken in the sunlight and I gotta say, it was such a pretty color...

"Whatcha starin' at, freckles? Do I have something on my face?" He chuckled, his eyes gliding over to look at me.

I blushed slightly again, "N-nothing. Sorry. There was a mosquito, but it flew away. I couldn't decide if I should slap it off or not." I laughed.

"Those little fuckers... God I hate them." He sighed, putting his arms behind his head.

I laughed again and decided to stare up at the sky. Why were his eyes so pretty to me? Why was his hair cut so interesting? Why had I noticed every single fucking detail? It's as if my senses had turned into a high resolution camera, and I saw everything.

So, to keep from being fuckin' creepy, I opted to stare at the sky. This was a _much_ better option.

* * *

 

We finally arrived at the “party,” and it could hardly be called that.

The name of the guy’s house we’d ended up at was Armin. He was a filthy rich blonde kid and his two friends, Mikasa and Eren, lived with him in his home.

Armin may have been rich, but he was one of the nicest people I had ever met. Even nicer than Bertholdt, and that was saying something, “Oh, hey, Reiner! Who’re they?” Armin asked at the door, smiling at Jean and I.

“That’s Marco and that’s Jean. Jean’s my roommate and Marco is Bertholdt’s.” Reiner said with a smile, pointing to each of us as he said our names.

Armin nodded a bit, “Alrighty, welcome! Make yourselves at home.”

He stepped aside and we walked in. There were literally a maximum of like 11 people there, if that… and I knew almost all of them. Now _that’s_ saying something.

Well, I soon learned that less than 11 people was _plenty_ in this group.

The people I hadn’t already known were Ymir and her girlfriend, Krista, Mikasa, Eren, Annie, and Armin. I quickly met these people and also quickly realized something.

I had just gotten myself involved in a group of the most homosexual people I had _ever_ met. Plus, they were well on their way to being shit-faced drunk.

I learned many things that night, and one of them was that drunk homosexuals were absolutely. Fuckin’. Hilarious. They were also weird, but hilarious was the trait that stood out the most.

My main focus of the evening was to help Bertholdt with Reiner, and I didn’t plan to break that promise to him.

I took a sip of the water I had picked in place of the beer that was piled up in the fridge, talking with Armin about school and what we were looking forward to. This guy was instantly someone I liked. Normally, I didn’t like rich people. They tended to be snotty little shits who didn’t know their place, but Armin was incredibly humble and kind.

Suddenly, Bertholdt brushed past me, lightly bumping my shoulder with his. I met his glance and nodded slightly as the tall boy made his way down the hallway towards the part of the house that wasn’t occupied by people.

Armin raised his thick eyebrows at me, “What was that about?”

I chuckled and set my red Solo cup on the counter, “You’ll see.”

I found the muscular blonde talking with the small Annie girl and I went up to him, “Hey, Marco! You met Annie yet?” Reiner asked in a happy voice clapping me on the back.

“Yep!” I half lied.

I hadn't formally met her, but the look in her eyes was intimidating, and she didn't seem very apt to argue that we _hadn't_ already met. I decided she didn’t particularly want to get to know me on a personal level, “Hey, Bertholdt needs your help with somethin’.” I told him, pointing towards the hallway.

Reiner nodded and sat his beer can down on the coffee table, “Alright, where is he?”

I glanced at my finger and rolled my eyes without him seeing, “Down the hallway.” I jabbed my finger towards the corridor that lead to the hall for emphasis.

“Kay, thanks, man!” Reiner said, striding through the doorway and out of sight.

_Gosh… I hope Bertholdt can do it…_ I thought, nervous for my new found friend. Had I given him poor advice? What if Reiner was completely anti-gay?

No, I didn’t need to let these thoughts go through my head. Whatever happened would happen, “Hey, what was that about?” A familiar voice said from behind me.

I turned to see Jean and I smiled, “Oh, hi. Um… I’ll tell you later. Not really a crowd topic.”

Jean nodded slightly and took a sip from his can of alcohol, “God, this stuff is _terrible_.”

“Then why are you drinking it?” I laughed, tapping the can in his hand with a finger.

“It’s alcohol. You don’t turn down alcohol, no matter how shitty it might be.” Jean chuckled, swirling the liquid inside so that it made a sloshing sound and then a fizzy sound inside the can.

I rolled my eyes, “I think I’m gonna stick to water…”

I moved back to the kitchen from the living room and Jean followed close behind, “Why did Reiner call this a party? This is a get together at best.”

“Don’t complain, there’s alcohol, remember?” I laughed, taking a sip of water.

I quickly spit it back out. That _wasn't_ water. I'd grabbed the wrong cup.

“OH YUCK.” I spat, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

Jean busted up laughing, “Oh my God, Marco! You’ve never had alcohol before have you?!”

I shook my head and went to the sink, washing my mouth out with water. That stuff was fucking _vile_ , “Ugh, how do you drink that?!”

Jean smirked, “I don’t like the taste, stupid. I like the buzz.”

“Buzz?...” I questioned, getting a new cup and filling it with clean water.

“Yeah. It makes your head fuzzy. It feels good.”

“Um, I believe that means you’re getting drunk. No more alcohol for you.” I said, giving him an odd look.

“Phhh, I’m not gonna get drunk off one can of beer.” Jean rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of the carbonated poison for emphasis.

I silently told myself that I would _never_ drink alcohol. Or at least this beer.

* * *

 

Jean may not get drunk off of one can of beer, but he sure did off of four fucking cans. The guy had come to the point of no return in how drunk he was. He was flirting with everyone. Mikasa, Sasha, Krista (to which he got a “Fuck off, horseface.” from Ymir), and even with me. It was hella awkward.

“Maaarrcccccooooo…. C’n I play wit’ yer hair?...” He slurred, reaching a hand up to touch my hair.

Yeah, well his hand was way off and his arm sluggishly rose right in front of my face.

“Um, no.” I said, pushing his arm back down to rest by his side.

Everyone had voted to put me on Jean sitting duty, and I wasn't sure what to think about it.

Was I away from the rambunctious crowd and the noise of chatter? Yes, but at the same time I was stuck in an extra bedroom with a Jean who couldn't walk in a straight line if his life depended on it, and, quite frankly, smelled so strong of fucking booze I thought I was gonna get drunk just smelling it on his breath, “Marcooooo… I want my beer…”

“No. No more beer for Jean.” I muttered, standing up off the bed.

Jean whimpered, grabbing a pillow… and started to kiss it.

You could say that at this point in time I  was _fucking done_.

“Stay here, I’m gonna go check on something.” I said.

Jean was too busy licking his pillow to care about me.

I walked quietly out of the guest room and tip-toed down the hallway that Bertholdt and Reiner were supposed to be in. I thought I heard noise coming from one of the rooms and the door was slightly open.

I glanced in through the crack to see Reiner pinning Bertholdt’s wrists to the bed, passionately making out with him.

I probably looked like I had been smacked in the face with a brick the way I staggered away from the door. I felt like a terrible person for intruding on their “moment,” and more than a little embarrassed.

Despite my feelings, I couldn't help but smile. It appeared to me that, even though at this party I had to watch Jean rendered incapable of human thought, making out with inanimate objects, the whole thing had been a wondrous success.

I had made even more friends and I had helped set up my roommate with the guy of his dreams. I couldn't help but feel proud as I made my way back to the guest room where Jean would probably still be making out with a pillow. _Good job, Marco. You’ve done well_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to update this every weekend... Hope it works out!! :) Thanks for reading!


	4. The Beginnings of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco breaks an AC unit, Jean's not as tough as he seems, and the boys play a good ol' game of Just Dance.

So, you know how I said school was going well and that I’d “done good?” Well, that was the truth. Until I managed to break the fucking air conditioner.

Yeah, I broke the AC. It wasn’t running well when I got up in the morning so, I did what any man would naturally do. I went to see what was wrong with Bertholdt and I’s unit, and I hit it with a fist. Then the fucking piece of trash just stopped running.

Even better though, we had to buy a whole new unit. _A whole. New. Air conditioning. Unit._

Thank _God_ Bertholdt’s family was rich as fuck.

“I am so so so so soooo sorry, Bertholdt… I-I didn’t know I’d break it!” I said, feeling like not only a shitty roommate, but a complete moocher.

“Dude, it’s alright. Calm down.” He laughed, “It isn’t like you knew it would break when you hit it…”

I shook my head slowly, “I still feel awful though… I can’t believe I’ve already broken something and I’ve been here less than a day! I mean seriously!”

He just laughed in that cheerful way of his and shook a hand at me, “Marco, shut up. We’ll just stay with Reiner and Jean until the electricians or whoever can come hook up the new one my parents bought. They practically fell over each other trying to get on the phone with someone to come and fix the thing.”

I smiled weakly, not quite sure I was happy with the idea of having to stay with the two of them for a couple days, but it was better than staying in a dorm room that was 90 degrees…

“Yeah, that’s true…” I said, sighing, “Lets drag our mattresses over there.”

He kind of gave me an uncomfortable look and I chuckled, “Oh, yeah… Okay, I’ll drag _my_ mattress over there.”

Bertholdt smiled awkwardly. He obviously wasn’t yet comfortable with being open about his relationship, “I’ll help! Those things are heavy.”

I smiled and nodded, “Thanks!”

We went and pulled my mattress off my bed, and before we left I closed all the windows. The one in the living room, the one in my room, and the one in Bertholdt’s room so that maybe the air conditioning in the hallway would cool down the dorm.

Let me tell you, it was difficult to drag a mattress down a hallway and into an elevator, even with a colossal friend and your own strength.

We were both crushed in the elevator behind the mattress and it was so uncomfortable we both burst into laughter, “Well… This is different.” Bertholdt chuckled.

“No joke… Ugh I’ve ruined this whole college experience.” I huffed, beginning to push the mattress into the hallway of the floor just below our own.

“Would you shut up, Marco?” The tall boy laughed, giving the cushion an extra shove so that I stumbled backwards a bit, “You’ve ruined nothing! It’s a minor setback, and it’ll be fixed by the time school starts. Stop rolling in self pity, silly.”

I laughed a bit at how innocent and kind Bertholdt was, it was reassuring, “Fine, fine. I’ll forget about it.”

“Good. I mean, obviously we needed a new one anyways. That one was definitely _not_ working well.”

I shrugged, “You’ve got a point there…”

After some annoying dragging and banging into walls because we suck at walking in straight lines, we finally made it to Jean and Reiner’s dorms.

I knocked on the door with my heel and Reiner opened the door, “What?... Oh! Yeah! The air conditioner. Here, Marco. Let me move that into Jean’s room for ya.”

_Jean’s room?! What?!_ I thought, shifting uncomfortably.

Well this was great. I’d busted the air and now I had to spend the next few nights in Jean Kirschtien’s room. _Fuck_.

“Thanks, you two! And I really appreciate this, Reiner…”

The big man chuckled and kicked open Jean’s bedroom door, “Not a problem! Jean, get your ass up and move your fuckin’ bed.”

“What the FUCK Reiner?! Shut the damn door!” A familiar, angry voice hissed from the bedroom.

“God, it smells _awful_ in here! Take a fucking shower, lover boy!”

“Shut UP, REINER. I WAS DRUNK. AND IT WAS A FUCKING PILLOW.”

“Quit yelling at me, dick head!” He laughed despite Jean’s harsh words, “Make yourself look at least a little decent! We have guests, you inconsiderate fuck.”

“Uuuuggghhh!”

I assumed Reiner had thrown the mattress on the angry, hung over Kirschtein because a resounding, “YOU MOTHER-FUCKING DICK HEAD” echoed through the dorm.

“JEAN, watch your language would’ja?!”

The blonde was officially mad at the language being used in front of his boyfriend. He pulled the mattress off of Jean and put it on the floor, “God, remind me to never let you drink more than one glass of alcohol. You’re _intolerably_ rude.”

I think “intolerably” was the biggest word I would ever hear Reiner use in my whole life, but that’s off topic, “C’mon, Bertl, lets go.”

Call me weird, but it was adorable when Reiner called him Bertl. The tall, awkward boy flushed pink and I swear I could see his heart skip a beat when the nickname peeled off of his boyfriend’s lips, “Y-yeah. C-coming!”

Reiner rubbed the back of his boyfriend’s head momentarily and then left the room, shutting the door behind them, “Aww…” I murmured.

After a few minutes of awkwardly waiting outside of the room, I peered into Jean’s bedroom.

Reiner had every right to say what he had said, the guy’s room was _disgusting_ , and I knew for a fact that it wasn’t caused by him being hung over. Maybe a little, but not all of it. There were dirty clothes strung all over the floor along with used paper plates. The most disgusting part though was that there was a currently empty container sitting at his feet… It smelled like vomit.

“Oh my God… This is disgusting…” I murmured.

“You’re gonna give me shit too, Freckles?” A groggy voice moaned from the bed.

Jean was equally as disgusting as his room at this very moment. He was in his boxers and a tee shirt with his limbs tangled haphazardly in the sheets. He had dark bruises under his eyes from a lack of sleep and his hair was ruffled and poking out in even more random directions than normal.

I almost laughed at him, and then remembered that he probably had a headache and had obviously been vomiting all day long, “Nah… I should have stopped you from drinking so much.”

“No fuckin’ joke…” He groaned, sitting up slowly.

He sat up only to lay back down again from a sharp pain in his head.

His hand smacked up to connect with his face, “This _sucks_.”

I did laugh at that, “I’m so sorry… You want me to get you some medicine?”

“Already took some… I thought it’d be gone by now, but nope…. This is the worst hangover I’ve ever had…”

“You’ve had more than one?” I chuckled and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Duh? I’m not some little angel kid.” He groaned, honestly sounding like the whiniest college student ever.

I would later learn that this was a very true statement.

“Anything I can do to help, king of hangovers?” I smirked, unable to help the flow of teasing coming from me.

“Get me an ice pack or a cold rag, and stop being such a sarcastic fuck.”

I rolled my eyes and made my way to the small fridge he had in the corner of his room, “Is it in here?”

“No shit.” He mumbled, covering his eyes with his forearm.

“God, you’re cranky. I liked drunk Jean better. He was loopy and got turned on by kissing inanimate objects. Which was funny.” I chuckled and grabbed the semi-frozen pack out of the cold refrigerator.

I got a chuckle out of him that time, “Please tell me no one else saw that… and that you didn’t take pictures.”

“Well, I could _tell_ you that, but whether it was the truth or not you may have to figure out on your own…” I smirked and set the ice pack in the hand that he stretched out to me.

Laying the thing over his forehead he shot me a look, a slight smile giving him away, “Freckles…”

I raised my hands to rest beside my face in surrender, “Fine, fine. I give, I didn’t take any pictures… but I should have.” I smirked.

Jean chuckled again and turned back to the T.V. he had muted, flipping through the channels with a remote.

I felt like this was the moment you could consider us friends instead of acquaintances. We were unusually comfortable around each other despite the minimal amount of time we had known each other. It was weird. A good weird, but it was odd. I had never slid into friendship so easily with someone before, “What do you like to watch?” He questioned, shooting another glance at me.

I shrugged a bit, “I don’t watch T.V. much, and besides… I’m cleaning this room before I’m forced to sleep in here for a couple days.”

Jean rolled his eyes, “Fine, fine, Mama Bott…”

I shot him a look, “ _Mama_ Bott?... I’m a man, I’ll have you know.” I chuckled slightly, beginning to pick up dirty clothes.

“Yeah, Mama Bott. Real men don’t _clean_.” Jean said simply, an edge of sarcasm brimming in his voice.

“Real men clean… Lazy boys don’t.”

“Hey! I’m not a boy! I’m a man. I drink and I swear.” He said defiantly, giving me a pout.

“Oh yeah? Where’s your facial hair?” I questioned cockily.

Truth be told, I didn’t shave yet either. I wasn’t a very hairy guy. To which I was slightly ashamed, “I… Uh… I shaved this morning.”

“Mmmmhhmmm… Likely story.” I smirked.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Freckles. I bet you don’t shave yet either.”

I shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not. You’ll never know.”

“You and your useless riddles make my brain hurt.”

“Actually, I think that’s just the after effects of alcohol.”

“ _SHHHH_.”

I laughed and quieted down after that, continuing to clean the pig-sty that was the room of Jean Kirschtien while he continued to moan and groan and babble on about how much he despised being hung over.

* * *

 

After 30 minutes of almost non stop complaining and the picking up of some of the nastiest random clothing articles I had _ever_ touched in my entire life, you could see the ugly floor of the college dorm again, and I was pleased to be able to say I wouldn’t be sleeping surrounded by clothes that smelled like old sweat and cheap cologne, “Good God, what kind of cologne do you use?...”

“Axe?”

Of course he used that shit. I thought that trend had ended in like 7th grade. I guessed not after the scent of his clothing had clouded up my senses for the past half hour, “Eugh. Why that stuff?... By the way, you use as much as a little 8th grade douche would use…”

Jean laughed at that, “Well I’m no classic 8th grade douche, _I_ am an A class freshman in college douche, and I like my Axe cologne.”

I rolled my eyes and chuckled, “You’re the only person I’ve ever met to just openly call themselves a douche. Let alone an A class douche.”

The boy with two-toned hair snickered and waved a hand at me, “I’m an honest man.”

I rolled my eyes for the umpteenth time whilst being with Jean and plopped down on my mattress, straightening my pillow a bit, “Your floor smells like Axe too! I already _know_ what I’m gonna get you for Christmas or your birthday. Whichever comes first.”

“What might that be?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Cologne that smells good.” I chuckled, picking at a string on my sheets.

“Mine does smell good!” He laughed, chucking something fluffy down at me.

I picked it up off my lap with a quick look at Jean first. He looked mortified.

My eyes trailed away from him down to whatever the hell I was holding in my hands. It was fluffy and soft and perfectly huggable. It was a _stuffed bunny rabbit_ , “Erm… Jean… You sleep with a stuffed bunny?”

“... No.”

“Then… Why’s it in your bed?...”

“Dunno… Must be Reiner’s.”

“Ummmm…. It says “Jean-y” on the tag…”

“.... Give him back.”

“What’s his name, Jean-y?”

“Fuck you, Marco.”

“His name is “Fuck you, Marco”?”

“No.”

“Tell me his name. Then I’ll give him back.”

“... His name is Cinnamon Paws. Now give him back.”

I was shaking with barely controlled laughter. I didn’t want Jean to feel bad, but at the same time this apparently tough guy had a 3-foot tall fluffy stuffed rabbit named _Cinnamon Paws_ , “He’s cute.” I opted to say.

“.....”

“Seriously! He’s adorable.”

“..........”

“If it makes you feel any better, I have a teddy bear named Marshmallow.”

“You do?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah!”

I really didn’t have one, and I assumed I would later need to go buy a stuffed bear for myself, but I felt awful. Jean’s face was visibly red even in the dark and I could see tears brimming in his eyes from the heat of his face, “Mph…”

“Jean, seriously, I don’t care. It’s a cute little thing.” I said, grabbing Cinnamon Paws the bunny back out of his arms and holding him in my lap.

I wasn’t lying, the toy _was_ adorable. He had some random polka dotted patches sewn onto him in order to fully cover holes, and some places were simply stitched up by a careful hand. He was a warm, cinnamony color with bright, glassy blue eyes and a cute, little pink nose. The bottoms of his paws had pink paw pads that were surrounded by white fur.

“Give ‘im back.” He sighed.

I handed Cinnamon Paws back to Jean and smiled. He smiled back with much less heart, but was looking much more comfortable with the situation.

This was the most important bonding moment we’d obviously ever had, and it was over a stuffed rabbit.

All the same, I was happy. Happy I had made a real friend. At least, I really hoped he viewed me as a friend… Otherwise my kindness may come across a little weird to him. Either way, I felt like Jean was finally warming up to me and the idea of being friends with Marco Bott.

* * *

 

Reiner and Bertholdt returned soon after the Cinnamon Paws incident, and Reiner announced he had brought us ice cream.

I got up and left to get mine, with full intention of bringing Jean’s to his room for him, but the guy drug himself out of bed and stumbled out the door.

He looked _terrible_ in full lighting.

His eyes were all squinty in the sudden light  and the dark bags under his eyes were even darker. His face was set in a scowl and his shoulders were slouched over in a manner that dripped with exhaustion and annoyance. He reached out to the cup of ice cream and Reiner withdrew his hand, “Nah ah ah, what do you have to say to me and Bert?”

Jean gave the tall blonde a look that said ‘are you fucking kidding me right now?’ and gritted his teeth, hissing a response through them, “Sorry.”

“Atta boy.” Reiner chuckled, handing Jean his cup.

Jean grabbed a spoon and started to nurse his ice cream, shuffling back to his room. When I say nursing, I mean _nursing_. He got a small spoonful and licked the ice cream off like you would a cone.

I didn’t say anything because he was probably sick of my presence already, but I did kind of marvel at how how his tongue rhythmically slid over the cold treat--

_What?_

I was watching him lick ice cream and it was _interesting_. I decided there was officially something very wrong with me. First his eyes and now the motions of his tongue. What was next? When the patterns of his speech were different than normal?!

_Marco, quit being weird. That’s weird. You’ve never just been interested with the way someone’s tongue moves. Why? Because it’s weird_. I thought, shaking my head very slightly.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Freckles?” Jean asked, looking down at me from his perch on the bed.

I flushed considerably and smiled, “Nothing! I’m perfectly fine!”

The boy cocked an eyebrow at me and chucked, “Alright, alright! No need to get your panties all in a wad.”

I chuckled stiffly and turned back to my ice cream. _What is_  wrong _with me?..._

* * *

 

The rest of the evening went smoothly without any creepy Marco brain things. Actually, it was some of the most fun I’d ever had.

Jean ended up feeling better around 7:30 that evening so myself, him, Reiner, and Bertholdt all collected in the living room to play video games on the flat screen they had hooked up in the room. Reiner had a Wii and an Xbox, but since the Wii was the one hooked up at the time we played it.

Guess what we played? That’s right, Just Dance. _Just. Fuckin’. Dance._

Lets just say the evening was _full_ of shits and giggles, ‘cause we were all _terrible_ dancers.

Especially Reiner.

He and Bertholdt had tried to do one of those duet dances with each other, and all Reiner had managed to do was either kick, punch, elbow, or step on his poor, helpless boyfriend with a resounding “sorry” every time he did so.

After we’d all had our fun, we split into our rooms. Jean fell asleep surprisingly quickly, but I took longer. My mind ran constantly, coming up with new patterns for music and how something might work out if I tried to do it on guitar, how my college life might play out, all those things. It all made it so hard to sleep.

For some reason one constant, pestering thought was of Jean and I didn’t know why. Nothing particularly special pertaining to Jean, just his name slipping into my thoughts. Literally, if I had been speaking them out loud it would have been like, “I wonder if my classes *Jean* will be hard this year… I’m *Jean* worried they will be… but who knows *Jean*.”

Hell if I knew. Finally, exhaustion got the better of me and I drifted off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, posting fanfiction at approximately 1:00 in the morning cuz weekends. XD 
> 
> Thanks for reading this chapter, everyone! It may get repetitive for me to keep thanking you, but it would feel rude if I didn't thank you for taking time to read this. I really appreciate it! X3


	5. A Talented and Intricate Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco is still kind of creepy when it comes to Jean, talents are discovered, and pieces of pasts are revealed.

I was up first out of all of us, and it was kind of awkward.

I’m an early riser, so I was awake at like 9 in the morning. I had nothing to do but lay on my mattress and stare at the ceiling. There was a little moth flitting around the light that wasn’t on, and I occupied myself watching the insect flap around, frantically trying to find a perch up high.

It didn’t take long for me to lose the little bug in the shadows of Jean’s room, so I focused on something else. Something I  _didn't_ want to focus on all that much.

I glanced over at Jean’s bed to see if he was doing that creepy thing my friends used to do at sleepovers where they stared at me until I woke up, but he wasn’t. That was kind of a relief.

He was asleep on his side facing my direction. His face was relaxed and his jaw hung open slightly, showing his perfect teeth and making his breathing slightly louder, but not a snore. He had Cinnamon Paws hugged against his chest with one arm and the other was shoved up under his pillow. He had obviously flailed around during the night because his lower body was tangled up in his sheets like a cocoon gone wrong.

_He looks so… Peaceful… I like it better than his scowl_. I thought, losing my focus in watching the steady rise and fall of his side as he breathed.

I was slowly becoming sleepy again from watching the rhythmic movements of his breathing, and I did end up falling asleep again, with a little smile left on my lips (as Jean would later tell me).

* * *

 

I received a much more _rude_ awakening after falling asleep for the second time.

I was having a great dream in which I was a valiant hero, moments from slaying some odd monster when I was doused with water. Not just water, _fucking ice cold water_.

“OH MY GOD!” I sat bolt upright and inhaled sharply, panting, “ _Why_?!”

Three “men” were standing over me laughing like preteens who’d just pulled the best damn prank the world had ever seen, “Jean, did you get a picture of his face?!” Reiner cackled, holding the plastic cup that had been the source of rudely fucking rousing me from my dream world.

“Yeah I did!” Jean snickered, showing Reiner the picture of my dumb ass face as I was sitting up.

Literally. It was _awful_. My mouth was gaping open, my eyes were huge, and I’d thrown up my hands. I looked like I was screaming on some roller coaster.

“Post it, post it!” The bulky blonde snickered, practically cheering like a little girl.

“I will.” Jean chuckled, “You have a Facebook, Freckles?”

I just glared up at them, too tired and annoyed to care about them knowing my Facebook. Either way, I grumbled, “It’s. My. Name.”

“What’s your last name?” He asked, a smirk permanently plastered to his face.

“It’s Bott!” Bertholdt chimed in, “Sorry, Marco. I tried to stop them…” His laugh gave away to the obvious fact that _he didn’t try very hard_.

“Yeah, yeah… Whatever…” I rolled my eyes and huffed, “Okay, I don’t have any clothes down here, and I am _not_ going upstairs soaking wet and in my boxers.”

Jean laughed and rolled his eyes, “You can wear some of my clothes, you baby.”

Reiner and Bertholdt left the room after the humor had died down some and Jean threw me a hoodie and sweatpants, “What about underwear?...”

“Dude, you don’t need underwear when you’ve got sweats on…”

I rolled my eyes up to the sky and went into the bathroom to change.

I’ll tell you now, I was _uncomfortable as fuck_ wearing these sweatpants without underwear. I mean, by the way he talked it was as if he _never_ wore boxers with sweats and I didn’t want my… Parts rubbing the same fabric his had touched, even _if_ they were clean pants. You probably could have heard me shuddering as I pulled the damn things on.

Yes, _heard_.

I tugged the hoodie on over my head after I’d dried my chest and stomach with a towel, and I instantly felt better. The dorm room was cold anyways so the outfit felt amazing.

I looked in the mirror and smiled a bit. The hoodie was an old, faded red color with some lettering that had peeled off of it long ago, and the sweats were in the same condition, except they were black.

They also faintly smelled of Axe.

I walked out and sighed, “Thanks for letting me borrow these, but I wouldn’t have _had_ to if you would have just nudged me awake…” I grumbled to Jean who was sitting cross-legged on his bed, waiting for me.

“No problem.” He smirked and stretched, flopping onto his back, “So, what do you want to do today? Reiner and Bertholdt have already left. They’re gonna hang with that scary Annie chick.”

I nodded a bit, “Mm… I’m still tired, so I don’t really want to go anywhere…”

Jean laughed a bit, “Lazy ass. Just kidding, I’m in the same mood.”

I grabbed my phone off the floor beside my mattress and sat next to Jean, sliding my finger across the screen to unlock it. I had a few Facebook notifications and I _immediately_ knew what they were.

Or, I thought I had.

One was the obvious the post by Jean, captioned with, “doused a dork” with myself, Reiner, and Bertholdt tagged, “I cannot believe you guys actually decided to do that. Ugh.”

“Oh quit being such a prick about it.” Jean laughed, nudging me with his elbow.

What I wasn’t expecting was the flood of new followers that had come in following the post. Jean, Reiner, Bertholdt, Ymir, Krista, Eren, Armin, and Annie had friended me shortly after the picture had been posted, “I’m amazed with how friendly all of you are…” I murmured, more to myself than to Jean.

He sat back up and glanced at my screen, “Oh, well it makes sense that me and Reiner and Bert friended you, but I am surprised about Ymir and Annie… Why are you surprised we’re nice?”

I flushed kind of pink, “I-it isn’t important. Doesn’t matter.” I shut off my phone.

“Aw, come on! You can tell me.”

I sighed softly and looked down at my hands. The problem wasn’t telling him, it was that I didn’t like remembering, “Well… In high school I was always… Bullied.”

“What?! You?! Bullied?” Jean sounded legitimately shocked.

I nodded, “Yeah…”

“Why?!”

“Well, I wore glasses, I had braces… I was intelligent, I was shy, I didn’t hang out with the popular kids… I never drank or smoked or did drugs… I was just “uncool.”” I put finger quotes around “uncool” for emphasis.

“Hmph. Douchebags they were, yeah?” Jean scoffed, frowning.

I laughed a little, “Yeah, I’d say so! Like I said though, it’s okay. I got contacts and I got my braces off halfway through my junior year so… I wasn’t picked on as much.”

I had left out a key thing in there, I had also been _pudgy_.

I say pudgy because it’s kind of true. I wasn’t like… Hugely fat, I just wasn’t in shape so I was kind of doughy, but senior year I started to work out and now I’m in shape, obviously.

“Do you have your glasses?” Jean asked.

I nodded slightly, “Have to have ‘em. In case my contacts get ruined or lost.”

“Show me!”

I shook my head. No, I was so self conscious when I had those stupid things on. I’d always been called “four-eyes” and “the freckled spider.” Stupid taunts, but after a while, things like that start to hurt. Bad, “They’re up in my dorm, I’m not gonna get them.”

“Alright, another time then.” Jean smirked, “Okay, loser. Come on, tell me what you wanna do today. I’m bored as fuck.”

_Loser_.

I felt like I’d just been punched in the heart. My mind was stuck in the past and being bullied. The last words my best friend had said when he had decided he wasn’t my best friend anymore were, “Dude, we _aren’t_ best friends. You’re a fuckin’ _loser_.”

The girl I liked when I finally pulled up the nerve to ask her out, “Um, no? I don’t date _losers_.”

I’d also been called dork, nerd, freak, and weirdo whilst being punched and kicked for literally no reason other than big “tough” guys liking to make insecure kids like me cry in public.

I guessed I had winced because Jean’s happy smirk had been replaced by a look of sincere and utmost concern, “Dude, are you okay? What did I do? Did I do something?”

“Just… Loser… It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

_He’s gonna think I’m an idiot! He’ll call me a baby and I just might lose it and start crying. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck..._ I thought, trying to settle my thoughts to a happier time.

“Come on, Marco. Seriously, tell me what I did so I don’t do it again… What do you mean?”

I shifted uncomfortably, “I-I was called a loser a lot in high school… I-it hurts still…”

I didn’t want Jean to know how insecure I still was as an 18 year old. I was a legal adult, I needed to act like one. Instead, I had the ability to take a name calling like a little 1st grade girl.

Instead of laughing and calling me a pansy, Jean put his hand on my shoulder and nodded slightly, “I’m really sorry… I didn’t know. Forgive me?”

I glanced over at him, kind of shocked. He had a small smile on his face. A slightly crooked smile, but all the same it was literally perfect. This was one of the first instances since quite literally the end of my junior year that someone (other than my family) was giving me a sincere, friendly smile and it made my chest all warm and happy, “Forgiven.” I said, unable to hold back the small laugh that escaped me from pure joy.

I was elated. I had a _friend_. A real friend that cared about my feelings and my thoughts… I silently hoped he thought of me as a friend also, “Wanna go get breakfast? Well, more like lunch now.”

The bright green numbers on his clock read 12:13. I had slept later than I had in years, and it had been because I was lulled to sleep by Jean’s breathing pattern.

I held back a blush and nodded, “Sure!”

Jean stood up and stretched, popping what sounded like every bone in his back and his neck. I seriously thought I was going to have to make a stretcher and carry him out of  the building to be airlifted to the hospital from the sound it made, “Alright… Lets see what we got.”

The boy padded out of the room and went to a tall cabinet in the corner of the dorm they used as a food pantry. He peered in and pulled out a box of Rice Crispies and a box of Pop Tarts, “Well… Those are what we have.” He laughed.

I laughed as well, “For a dorm that has two rich boys living in it I would have expected something… Fancier.”

“Ah, shut it, Bott.” He snickered, handing me a plastic bowl from another shelf of the cabinet, “No milk… So it’s a dry meal.”

I chuckled and poured a bowl full of cereal and then set my two Pop Tarts in along with it, “Ahh, the life of a college student. Dry cereal and Pop Tarts.”

Jean gave an airy laugh and nodded, doing the same thing I had done. I went and sat on the couch, beginning to scoop cereal into my mouth with my fingers, “Ew, use a spoon you fuckin’ animal.” He said, feigning disgust as he chucked a plastic spoon at me.

“I’m no animal.” I gasped in fake offense, “You dick.”

Jean cackled, managing to spit cereal all over my pants, “Oh, nasty!”

We both busted up laughing at the situation, even though it wasn’t that funny looking back, “Oh my God, you’re such a pansy! It’s just spit.”

“‘Ex. Act. Ly.’” I hissed playfully, violently rubbing my pant leg.

“If you’re trying to set those pants on fire with friction, it ain’t happening.” Jean laughed, nudging my calf with his toe.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, “Oh, you don’t say??”

“You sarcastic fuck.” He smirked, continuing to eat.

I rolled my eyes and bit into one of the Pop Tarts, “Ick… They’re chocolate ones…”

“You don’t like those?”

“Oh, that isn’t it. They’re just gross for breakfast… They’re fine for a snack.”

“So you like the fruit ones?”

I nodded and Jean paused for a few seconds, “Why are we discussing Pop Tarts? We’re like girls at a sleepover.” He shuddered.

I laughed, “But we aren’t girls… I guess this is technically a sleepover though.”

Jean looked thoughtfully at his cereal for a few moments and then, in an almost shy voice asked me, “So… D-does that mean we’re friends?...”

I thought I had heard him wrong at first, so I said, “What?”

This apparently caused him to lose his footing on the conversation and he shook his head, “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

I took a few seconds to process what he had said and was fairly surprised myself, “W-well… I would consider us friends… Only if you do though!”

Jean smiled at me like a giddy schoolboy, “Good. You know about Cinnamon Paws, if we weren’t friends, I’d have to kill you.” He laughed.

I smiled wide and laughed as well. I was friends with him. He considered _me_ a friend, “Yeah… I promise I won’t tell anyone about Cinnamon Paws.”

He smirked, “I’ll only forgive you if you’re shit-faced drunk. That’s the only time you’ll be okay to tell people.”

I laughed, “Umm, I’m not gonna get drunk. Ever.”

The sarcastic laugh that Jean emitted was unforgettable. I could tell he was convinced I would get drunk. Soon, “Oh shut the fuck up. There’s a school wide party tomorrow night, and we’re going.”

I groaned, “Oh God, no. Why tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s Thursday, so the kids who plan the party give us three days to recover from getting drunk and staying up in the woods till two.”

“Two?! As in, in the morning?!” I looked at him in shock.

Call me a loser, but I’d never been awake past midnight. My parents were sticklers for bedtime, even on weekends, “Yeah… Is that so weird?”

I blushed sheepishly, “N-no, I guess not. That’s just super late.”

Jean smirked, “Well, we could stay until five… Then you could really experience late…”

I shook my head furiously, “No. No no no no no. Two sounds _great_.”

He laughed and lightly punched my shoulder, “There we go… I’m so excited to see little angel Marco Bott get drunk.”

I gave a muffled sort of sound with cereal in my mouth, but what I was _really_ thinking was _FUCK_.

* * *

 

We finished eating and decided to play video games… Then we found no games that were interesting and literally flopped on the floor and did _nothing_ , “Ugghh… This is boring.” Jean huffed, standing up.

I nodded, “Yeah… It is.”

Suddenly a thought came to mind, “Oh! Hold on.”

Jean was already in his room and peeked out, “What?”

I didn’t answer, just got up and ran out into the hall and up to the elevator before anyone could see me in Jean’s clothes. I ran to mine and Bertholdt’s dorm and made my way to my bedroom. It was _hot_ in there, and I was thankful I was sharing a dorm with Jean and Reiner.

I quickly grabbed my guitar and my notebook and a pencil and made my way back to Jean’s dorm. Then I realized something. _I wasn’t comfortable playing in front of people_.

I stiffened on the elevator and bit my lip. _Should I do this? I’m sooo bored… It’ll be fine! Jean doesn’t seem like someone who would laugh! I mean… Would he?_

My thoughts wandered like that until it was too late to turn around. I pushed open the door and was met with Jean glancing up at me from… A… Drawing notebook? Was that what that was?

“Hey! Whoa, is that a guitar? You play?” The boy smiled at me, genuinely interested.

“O-oh… Yeah. I’ve been playing since I was 10.”

“That’s awesome! You must be good if you’ve been playing for this long! Do you play anything else?”

“A-ah… I play piano…”

I was officially shy. I was surprised he was so curious about it, “Serious? You’ll need to play for me some time.”

I sat down on the couch beside him and chuckled out of pure nervousness, “Mm… Maybe…”

“Aw, come on! You’re gonna play guitar, what’s so different about piano?” He questioned, sketching some sort of line.

Truth be told, I’d been made fun of for playing piano, but not guitar.

Everything revolved around if it had caused me grief in high school or not. My hobbies, my opinions… Was it pathetic? Yes. Was there anything I was gonna do about it? No. Once people decided to… Like me for _me_ , that’s when I could be okay with what I really enjoyed, “I just don’t like it as much.” I lied, Jean didn’t need to know why it bothered me for real.

“Ah, shut up, man.” He laughed.

I smirked, “What about you? You draw?”

“Yeah! In all honesty, I wanted to be an art major…” He gave a small smile, continuing to lightly scratch his pencil across the thick paper.

“Why aren’t you at a college that teaches art courses?” I asked, undoing the clasps on my guitar case.

“My parents didn’t want me to be an art major… They wanted me to have a _“sustaining career”_ that would _“be able to keep me and my future family in a good home”._ ” He grumbled, using a slightly higher pitched, scratchy voice for the things he put into finger quotes, “I fucking hate them.”

I was surprised at how he spoke about his family since I had grown up loving my parents, “Are they bad?”

“Bad is an understatement. They’re rich and decide that because they’re rich means that they can choose what I’ll do for a career, what I should like doing, and exactly where I’ll go to school.” He gestured to the dorm room, as if to say _example A_.

I frowned and turned the tuning picks, plucking at the strings, “That’s… Wrong… You should have done what you wanted to do!”

He sighed softly, “Yeah, well it was either medical school or I live at home for the rest of my existence. I figured a good job and my own home was a lot better than living with those pompous assholes for the rest of my life.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, “ _Pompous_ assholes? Where’d you pick up that word?”

Jean grinned and rolled his eyes. I’d definitely corrected his mood, “You pick up on some five-dollar words when you take six years of art classes.”

“God, that many? With six years I gotta see what you’re drawing.”

He blushed sheepishly and scratched his cheek, “Naaahhh, it’s not that good… Just a sketch.”

“C’mon, let me see it!”

I laughed and grabbed the book out of his lap. He snatched for it and pouted childishly when I kept it from him, “Ugh, fine.” He huffed, obviously embarrassed.

I smirked at him and looked down at the book and I swear my jaw dropped to the floor. This guy was fucking _amazing_.

The drawing itself was a simple concept, just the beginnings of a nature scene, but it was gorgeous. So far he had an intricate tree with small petals clinging to the slender branches. Even though it was simply in pencil he had added the ruts that patterned the tree bark and shadows that made the tree look deep and real, “Whoa… This is amazing… Is it a cherry blossom tree?”

He nodded shyly and rubbed the back of his neck, “Y-yeah… They’re my favorite to draw…”

I smiled up at him, “Mind if I look through it?”

He gestured with his hand to say I could and I flipped through the pages. He had about eight other drawings, and they were all gorgeous landscapes. It appeared they all had a cherry blossom fit in there somehow, “What’s the story behind the cherry blossom trees?”

Jean shrugged and didn’t look me in the eyes, “I just like ‘em. They’re pretty and… Never mind.”

I raised an eyebrow, “C’mon, tell me. I’m not gonna laugh.”

He picked at a string on the couch absentmindedly, “W-well… In Japanese culture they kind of… Represent how beautiful life is but also how short it is… a-and so we should appreciate it as long as it lasts… and drawings last forever so long as they’re taken care of s-so…” He trailed off into an embarrassed mumble that I could no longer understand.

Goodness he was deep. I didn’t realize how deep this guy was, “That’s… Really, really cool, Jean. I didn’t realize they had such a deep meaning.”

He looked up at me and a small smile tweaked his lips. Then something completely irrelevant but truly surprising came out of his mouth, “You lied about having a stuffed animal to make me feel better, didn’t you?”

I blankly stared at him for a few moments, processing the sudden topic change, “O-oh… Yeah… Sorry, but yeah, I did…”

Jean’s smile widened until I could almost see his teeth, “You are one interesting person, Marco Bott. One interesting, stupidly nice person. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better… So I can know more about your past.”

I asked him why and he gave me a simple smile with eyes shining with mischievous curiosity, and said, “I’ve heard that the most damaged people are the kindest, and with the way you’ve been treating me, I have a feeling your life has been full of shit.”

I was again reduced to staring at Jean with probably the most dumbfounded expression, and all he did was pull his pad of drawing paper out of my lap and continue to scratch intricate lines on his drawing, a small, smile on his face. A smile that confused me and made me wonder what the heck was going through his clever mind.

_This man… Is a hell of a lot smarter and deeper than he lets on to be_. I thought.

The rest of the evening was spent with Jean drawing and me adding more to the song I was writing, but no matter how hard I tried, those words never left my mind: _‘“the most damaged people are the kindest, and with the way you’ve been treating me, I have a feeling your life has been full of shit.”’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Fluffy filler chapter with a forming friendship! XD 
> 
> Wahahah, I'm on spring break, so hopefully there will be more than one update this week (hopefully)! Thanks for reading! :D


	6. Friendship and Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more friendships are forged, Marco gets drunk, and a special dance takes place.

I woke up the next morning sleepy. It hadn’t really been a late night or anything, it was just one of those mornings. I guess I’d had some emotional remembrances yesterday as well… but I doubt that had anything to do with me being tired.

Low and behold, he hadn’t done it yesterday so he sure as hell had to do it today.

When I turned to look at Jean, he had his eyes stretched open incredibly wide and he had the creepiest demonic smile curling up the corners of his lips, “Good morning, Marco Bott…” He said in a creepy ass voice.

I practically jumped out of my skin, “Holy sh--!” I gasped and then smacked a hand to my forehead, “Dammit, Jean…”

He started snickering like a fuckin’ kid, “You should’ve seen your face, dude! You’re such a baby!”

I chuckled and sat up, rubbing my bed hair to smooth it a bit, “Says the guy who sleeps with a two-foot-long fluffy rabbit named Cinnamon Paws…”

He frowned at me, “Shut up, Marco…”

Smirking up at him, I crossed my legs and pulled my blanket up around my shoulders so that it draped over me, “So, is Mr. Bott ready to get wasted this fine summer evening?”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated, “I’m _not_ gonna get drunk. You can keep dreaming. I won’t even have alcohol, you’ll see!”

Jean gave that sarcastic laugh again and leaned on his elbow, placing his chin in the palm of his hand, “Oh yeah? Everyone drinks at college parties. Even little angels like you.”

I rolled my eyes again and stuck my tongue out at him, “Well, this angel isn’t gonna.”

“Haven’t you heard, though? Angels with freckles have a dark side…” He snickered.

“Says the non-angelic and even less freckled Jean Kirschtein.” I huffed.

“Quite so.” Jean laughed, dragging himself out of bed, working again on popping all the bones in his body.

“You need to borrow my clothes again?” He asked after stretching his fill.

I shook my head and felt my ears go pink as I realized I’d slept in his hoodie and sweatpants last night, “Nah, I-I’ll get my own to wear to the party. When do we have to go?” I asked.

Jean gave me a look that made me feel like he noticed my ears flush, and I quickly turned away from making eye contact, “We’ll leave at about eight tonight.” He said, sitting down in front of me.

I nodded and sighed, “Ugh, I don’t wanna…”

He smirked, “Well, you gotta. Either you go willingly or I tie you up and throw you in the back of Reiner’s truck.”

I laughed and pushed him a bit on the shoulder, “Oh yeah, then I could report you for kidnapping!”

“Yeah, I’m sure _that_ would be a mission the police would pursue.”

I laughed a little, and then realized how close Jean was to me. The only reason I noticed was because there was a break in conversation.

His eyes were light and shiny, making them look like glass with a brown tint, and it was _beautiful_. There was a small smile dancing on his lips that looked nothing like his casual smirk or regular scowl. I realized something just then.

He looked like how he did when he was asleep. Only it was better, because he was awake, and I could see expression in his eyes. My chest grew warm and I gripped my blanket tightly in my hands because something clicked in my brain, and it made me feel inexplicably happy. _I_ made him look as happy and peaceful as he did in his sleep. My presence appeared to make him _happy_.

I supposed Jean had been studying my face as well because simultaneously we looked away from each other, muttered some awkward “sorry”’s, and cleared our throats.

Jean stood up, a light pink dusting his cheeks, and left to go to the bathroom. I sat in his room, alone, feeling like I’d just kissed a girl for the first time.

What the hell had made me feel so giddy all of a sudden? That warm feeling just from Jean _looking_ at me and looking happy because he was looking at me. God, I was one fucked up college student. _Marco, you have to stop doing this. It’s creepy! You can’t just obsess over your friend’s eye color or his perfect teeth or his quirky haircut… There you go again, Goddammit!_

I mentally punched myself in the nose and huffed, trying to clear my head. Bertholdt said that the men who were to replace our air conditioner would be here today. Good, I could get back to my room and straighten my stupid mind out with this whole creepy Jean thing.

I hadn’t noticed him come back, too sucked into my thoughts to notice him, “Oi, princess, lets go get breakfast.”

“I’m not going out in public without a shower and a change of clothes.” I said, laughing.

“Ugh, fine, but be fast.” He chuckled, waving me away.

“Lemme grab clothes.” I jumped up to run and get an outfit, but Jean stopped me.

“Nah, go shower, I’ll grab you something.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him and he did the same to me, “What?”

“Can I trust you to pick something that won’t make me look like a nerd?”

“No.”

He said it with such a deadpan straight face I broke into a mad fit of laughter, “Fine, whatever, don’t make me look terrible.”

So, I took a shower that was literally five minutes long, dried off, awkwardly used someone’s deodorant, and stayed uncomfortably in the bathroom until Jean knocked on the door finally, “God, you took forever!” I said through the door.

“Hey, gimme a break! I was trying to pick out the nerdiest thing for you to wear.” He laughed jokingly.

I cracked the door and he handed me the outfit he’d picked for me, and sitting on top of the clothing were my _glasses_.

_Damn him..._ I thought, putting them down on the cabinet, “Jean, I’m not wearing my glasses.”

“Yes you are. Oh yeah, here.” He slid my contact case under the door.

“I don’t have solution.”

“Already in there”

_DAMN HIM._

I sighed quietly. It wouldn’t be… That bad, right?... No, I couldn’t wear glasses again. I didn’t want to ever wear them. Especially not around friends.

Why you may ask? Well, my glasses were those square shaped, thick rimmed, plastic, black kind of glasses that were almost too big for your face, but fit just right to where they wouldn’t fall off… All the time.

I hated them. I hated them so much, “Jean, no.”

“Marco, yes.” He snickered, “Come on! I already promised I wasn’t gonna make fun of you, right? Right. Now wear the damn things.”

“How did you even find them?” I questioned, reluctantly removing the first contact from my eye.

“They were in your underwear drawer.”

I chuckled, “Dammit, Jean…”

He laughed, “C’mon already! I promise I didn’t pick an awful outfit, and glasses won’t look bad on you.”

His kindness shocked me, really. Or at least his attempt at kindness.

I removed the second contact remembering that only three days ago, this kid had come in scowling at me like I was his worst enemy, and now he was begging me to put on my glasses like a little kid.

I put on the dorkiest glasses in existence and looked at what Jean had picked out for me.

He’d done a pretty good job, I had to say. In fact, he’d managed to pick of one my favorite outfits… Huh. It was a red, white, and blue button up, a plain white t-shirt to go underneath, and light washed jeans. This guy had some sense of taste when it came to style, and for that I was eternally grateful.

I pulled on the clothes and adjusted the collar of my shirt, smiling at my reflection in the mirror. If only I didn’t have to wear these _fucking glasses_ , “You done, freckles?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I came out and he smirked, “You’ll get ladies in that, for sure.”

I honestly couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, so I just laughed uncomfortably, “I actually don’t plan to get a girlfriend while I’m here. I kind of want to avoid relationships, but you know, if fate thinks differently I guess I’ll date someone.”

Jean chuckled and nodded, “Want to stay away from the ol’ ball-and-chain then?”

“No, no! That isn’t it, just… Focus on my studies and not a girl.”

“So a boy then?”

“NO. No dating. Single Marco.”

His chuckle turned into a cackle, “You’re so lame, Marco.”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh shut up…”

* * *

 

It took us a good 15 minutes, but we did manage to find the dining hall, and it was _massive_. Pretty damn nice too.

We sat at a table with Reiner and Bertholdt and were later joined by Connie and Sasha. Those two seemed like they were joined at the hip, and finally Jean asked the question we were all thinking, “So, are you guys dating?”

“No! What?! She’s like my sister!” Connie had sputtered, managing to spray me with a thin shower of orange juice.

“Oh sick…” I grumbled, but no one was paying attention to me and my “sticky situation”.

Kill me for making that pun, _God_.

“Seriously, we aren’t dating.” Sasha said through a mouthful of toast, “I mean, why would I date a dork like Connie?”

Jean leaned his cheek on his hand and then his elbow on the table, “I dunno, why would Bertholdt date Reiner? I mean, he’s a pretty dumb blonde if you know what I mean…”

As if to emphasize Jean’s taunting, Reiner literally looked up from his eggs at the mention of his name and said, “What?”

Needless to say, we all laughed, “Oh shut up, Jean. Do you have your eyes on anyone already?” Connie asked, flicking a small piece of bacon in Jean’s direction.

I could see he went a little pink, but he laughed and rolled his eyes, “Eh, not really. I mean, Mikasa is pretty hot, but she gave me the cold shoulder at Armin’s party, so I won’t risk it with her.”

Connie nodded understandingly and Sasha laughed, “You’re such a pussy, Jean!”

“I am not!!” He said, clearly annoyed.

“Sure, sure.” She snickered, stuffing another bite of toast in her mouth.

“What about you, Marco? Got your eyes on any ladies? Or gentlemen, whichever way you turn.” Connie chuckled a bit.

I huffed, “Why does everyone just immediately think a guy is gay.” I laughed a little and shook my head, “I’m not interested in anyo--.”

Jean cut me off, “He’s not gonna date in college. He wants to focus on his career.”

He said in a snotty kind of voice and Connie laughed, “Hah! Weak! C’mon, you aren’t gonna have wild, sleepless, one-night stands with any girls here?”

I shook my head, “N-no… I’m definitely not planning on it…”

There were laughs all around and I felt myself growing pinker and pinker by the second, “Aw, okay guys, okay, enough with the teasing. Every group of misfit friends needs a good angel, and Marco is ours.” Jean chuckled, clapping a hand onto my shoulder.

Everyone seemed in agreement that every group needed an angel and I was relieved from any farther teasing. I caught Jean’s eyes and his expression was practically drilling into me to find if I was okay from being teased.

He had really taken it to heart… He had taken to heart that I had been hurt in the past and that being teased was a painful thing for me… W-wow…

I gave him a small smile in order to reassure him that I was in fact perfectly fine and he grinned a bit, pleased.

I guessed we had looked at each other a little too long because fuckin’ Connie waggled his eyebrows at us suggestively, “That looked pretty… Ah… Romantic… You sure you aren’t gay, guys?”

“WE AREN’T GAY, CONNIE.” We both growled at the same time.

You know how there are those really _really_ inconvenient moments where there’s a silence in everyone’s conversations at once, and the universe just decides to smack you in the face and laugh at your misery? Yeah, well that’s what happened.

We both howled our testaments of our very much straight sexualities, and in return got looks that either read “what the literal fuck?” or “damn I wish I’d recorded that” from pretty much everyone in the cafeteria.

I flushed red with embarrassment and Jean flipped off a couple of people who had dared to speak, “Fuck you, Connie.”

“I’m sure you want to, but I’m not gay, sorry, Jeany boy.” Connie purred smugly.

“I’m gonna strangle your scrawny fuckin’ neck and bash in your bald head. Come here you little shit-face.” Jean snarled, jumping up and chasing Connie out of the building and onto school grounds.

Sasha laughed, grabbed Connie’s leftover orange, and ran out chasing them, “Run for your fuckin’ life, baldy!”

I laughed in exasperation, “This… Is going to be an interesting year…”

Reiner and Bertholdt just nodded simultaneously, watching out the glass wall as Jean began beating Connie senseless with a frisbee he had found sitting in the grass while Sasha threw orange peels at the two of them, shouting things that I couldn’t hear from inside.

_My friends… Are absolutely fucking insane..._ I thought, dragging a hand down my face, “Oh my God…”

* * *

 

It was about time to go to the party, and Jean still smelled like oranges, “Dammit, I got grass stains on these jeans…” He muttered.

“Yeah, not to mention the blood.” I smirked.

He rolled his eyes, “I didn’t make the little bastard bleed…”

“Okay, so Connie leaks ketchup out of his nose when beaten ruthlessly with a plastic disk.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

We both laughed and I shoved him, “You’re ridiculous, Jean.”

“Nah, Connie’s just an idiot. People that stupid deserve to be beaten with plastic recreational objects.”

I clapped a hand to my face and groaned, “You’re _hopeless_.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m funny.”

“Yeah… _Fuckin’ hilarious_.” I said sarcastically, and he just smirked at me.

“Change your clothes, you’re a mess.” I said, scribbling in a few notes in my songbook.

I had started a new song, and I really liked it so far. It was slow and calming, and I guess it was a little sad sounding, or Jean told me as I wrote it, “Fine, I’ll change… but, play me a song first. A full song.”

I flushed pink, “N-nah, I don’t have any memorized…”

Apparently, I was a really bad liar, “Shut up. Play me one you’ve written that’s finished then.”

“... Fine…”

I flipped to the front of my notebook and started playing. It was kind of choppy, being the first one I had written, but it was still good. It wasn’t flowy and pretty, more dark and intense.

Once I finished, Jean clapped and smiled, “Bravo. You, Marco Bott, are a talented man.”

I rubbed the back of my neck shyly, face growing warm, “Aw, you’re just sayin’ that…”

He chuckled, “Nope! I mean it! You’re amazing.”

He paused and his face gained a shade of pink, “I-I mean you’re amazing at playing guitar…”

I cocked an eyebrow at him, “I knew what you meant…”

He crossed his arms stubbornly, “Okay, okay, just making sure, ya know?”

I smirked and he huffed, moving around to get changed. I went back to songwriting, but I paused when he pulled off his t-shirt.

His back was incredibly muscular looking, more so than I thought it would look. I’d only seen him wear loose fitting t-shirts so I hadn’t really expected him to be so… Buff. That wasn’t what caught my attention though.

Well, kind of. It wasn’t the most important thing though.

He had a cut on his back that he somehow hadn’t noticed, “Jean!”

He turned sharply, and I’ll admit, I was momentarily distracted by his sculpted stomach. He had a fuckin’ six pack, okay?! “What?!”

“You have a cut on your back…” I said, setting my guitar down.

He twisted around to try to see the wound, but ended up wincing and stopped. He hadn’t seen it, but he’d sure felt it, “I can’t reach it…”

He really couldn’t, it was in just the right place where it would be impossible to reach, “Here, I’ll wash it out for you.” I said, going to the bathroom.

“If you’re gonna use that peroxide shit then fuck that noise, I’ll let it get infected.” He called from his bedroom.

I pursed my lips and set the bottle of the stuff back in the cabinet, “Well fine then.” I chuckled, wetting a washrag instead.

I wrung the warm rag out well and went back to his bedroom. He had sat down on his bed, and I crawled up behind him, sitting cross-legged, “It’ll sting a little.” I murmured, folding the rag.

Jean nodded and I could tell he made a quiet noise of pain as I pressed the wet rag to his cut, “Hold still, you little baby.” I chuckled.

“Shut up, freckles… Ugh, Connie you fucker… Cut your damn fingernails…” He huffed.

I couldn’t help but laugh, “Connie did this with his _fingernails_?”

Jean nodded vigorously, “I swear he did! His nails were the only sharp thing around.”

“Well, now you know better than to pick a fight with Connie.” I smirked.

“Shut. Up.”

I moved the rag off the cut and realized it hadn’t done a single thing, “Okay, sorry to be the bringer of bad news, but we’re gonna have to use peroxide.”

“What?! No! That shit burns!” He hissed, pulling away.

I grumbled under my breath, “Sorry, but you aren’t gonna get an infection and get sick your first year of college because of another guy’s fingernails. Suck it up, you pansy.”

It was a good feeling to use Jean’s most favorite insult against him, and he knew I enjoyed every second of saying it, “Shut up.”

I laughed, “How many times are you going to tell me that?”

“As many as it takes to get you to shut your mouth.”

I rolled my eyes and left, grabbing the peroxide and a towel. I went back and Jean flipped shit, “No. No, no, no, no. It’s not happening.”

“Jean, lay down on your stomach on the towel.” I said as calmly as I could without laughing my lungs out.

I laid the towel flat on the ground, but Jean refused, and that did it, “Alright, fine. Do we need Reiner to hold you down?”

“Fuck no, I ain’t doin’ it.”

“REINER.”

“Whatcha need, freckles?” The blonde was there in moments.

“Jean needs peroxide on his cut, but he’s being a little baby. Will you hold him down?”

I swear I saw the devil appear in Reiner’s eyes, “Um, hell yes. Bertl!”

His boyfriend was there in seconds and Reiner handed off his phone, “Take pictures. Lots of them.”

Jean glared, “Oh my God, don’t. Stop. You guys suck!”

Reiner rubbed his hands together, and in seconds had Jean tackled to the ground. The muscular boy easily overpowered Jean, sitting on his shoulders and pulling his head up in a headlock. Jean made stupid gargling sounds, attempting to flail his legs.

I sat on his legs, “Stop squirming and it’ll hurt less!!” I practically yelled at him, “Come on, you’re a freaking adult!”

Everyone was laughing… _Except_ Jean.

Finally, we got him restrained enough that I could pour the medicine into his cut. He stiffened and winced and made a small whimpering sound as the stuff fizzed in his cut.

Looked to me like it was a really good thing I’d done it.

Also, note to self… Don’t touch Connie’s hands without a gallon of Germ-X to kill the bacteria.

* * *

 

Finally. Finally we left the damn dorm room.

Jean was _not_ happy with me, but I had managed to convince him it was for the better, and his mood improved. Then we got into the trunk of Reiner’s shitty truck with Connie and Sasha, “How often do you wash your fuckin’ hands, Connie?” Jean asked him, scowling.

“I dunno. Probably only when I shower.” He shrugged.

“And how often do you shower?...” He questioned.

“Um… I dunno… Probably like… Three times a week?”

A _guess_? He _guessed_ he showered three times a week. Fuckin’ nasty, “Ew, Connie that’s _disgusting_. You cut me with your fuckin’ nails and when Marco put peroxide in it, that bitch fizzed for a good five minutes. Wash your damn hands.”

Connie started laughing hysterically, “Oh my GOD! I saw those pictures on Reiner’s Facebook!”

“I was right, Jean’s a pussy.” Sasha said, resting her chin on her hands smugly.

Jean was about to sock both of them in the face when Reiner hit a bump. Hard.

I swear I thought I was gonna bounce out of the truck at the force we hit that pothole, “SHIT.” Jean yelped.

“Ow, my boobs!” Sasha squeaked, holding her chest.

TMI, Sasha. T. M. I.

I was, yet again, 100% fucking done in the back of this damn truck. Why were we even in the truck? This party was in the woods by campus.

Jean opened the sliding window that opened up to the cab, “Reiner, where the fuck are we going?”

Bertholdt turned around to answer, “To the party?”

“Why are we _driving_ there?” Connie spat, rubbing his head.

“Oh! It’s farther away from the school, so we don’t bother people and get reported to the cops.” Reiner said, interrupting his boyfriend before he’d even said a word.

Jean slammed the window closed and rolled onto his back.

He looked uncomfortable, I assumed because of his cut. He had one side of himself propped up slightly to keep his cut from rubbing the truck bed, “You okay?” I asked him, turning onto my back as well.

“Yeah, it stings a little.” He sighed.

I watched the stars speckling the satin night sky and smiled softly, “That’s to be expected…”

He chuckled, “Shush.”

The small smile stayed on my lips. It was gorgeous out, and the farther we drove, the more I could tell we were going away from civilization. Stars don’t shine like this in the glare of city lights, “It’s so pretty…” Sasha said in a breathless way.

We all murmured a form of agreement, and this is when I could tell that a mutual closeness was formed between myself and Jean and Connie and Sasha. Two separate units of friends became a group of four friends watching the stars from the back of a shitty truck on its way to a party, and it felt better than anything in the world.

That feeling of becoming true friends with someone is an amazing feeling. A feeling of purpose, of belonging, and I treasured every time it happened, because it had been a feeling I had personally felt little and far between during my years of high school.

Jean put his hands behind his head, and the entire ride his elbow brushed against my hair, Sasha’s hand kept darting in front of my face to point out what she thought clusters of the tiny stars looked like, and Connie’s head was pressed up against mine. I can honestly say, this would have annoyed me if it was anyone else, but this felt… _Perfect_. This was friendship, this was closeness, this was a bond that mattered a hell of a lot more than personal space. I felt wanted, and that’s what mattered.

I was wearing my glasses, and I felt wanted.

I was a person, not a thing taking up space and wasting oxygen.

Most importantly though, I was _me_. I was _me_ , and I felt _wanted_.

* * *

 

Once the truck stopped moving, I realized I didn’t want to leave. I could stay in this uncomfortable, cramped space forever if it meant being with these people that surrounded me right now, but I did get out, and the happiness didn’t fade. It stayed there.

We could all hear music and people in the distance, and we followed the noise until we made it to a party that literally looked insane.

It had obviously taken quite a bit of time and money to set up. There were generators hidden in the bushes that were running Christmas lights of random colors and sizes. The lights had been strung up in the trees and were casting a colorful glow onto the grass and the faces of people. Despite the warmth of the summer evening, there was a big bonfire in the middle the clearing that was sporting Freedom College’s enemy school’s mascot; the head of a unicorn.

I had actually wanted to go to that school in the beginning… Thank God I’d changed my mind, “Hey! Freshmen!” Some upperclassman I didn’t know said, smiling wide at us, “How’s it goin’? Welcome to F.C. Only one rule at this party: have fun. Alcohol’s over there, food’s over there.”

With that, he gave us a smile, a wave, and left to be with his friends, “This party is _sick_!” Connie laughed, pumping a fist into the air.

Sasha nodded, her ponytail swinging enthusiastically, “Dude, I want to be known as the person who runs this party some day…”

Connie smirked, “You’d probably have to sleep around a little for that title…”

“Hey! Shut up, Connie!” She laughed, racing with him over to the coolers filled with what I guessed to be alcoholic beverages.

“And then there were four.” Jean chuckled, and then with a quick glance around us, corrected himself, “Two… What the fuck? We were left that fast?”

I laughed and nudged him, “Eh, whatever! Lets look around.”

Jean nodded, “Yeah… Reiner and Bert are with that creepy Annie girl again.”

I nudged him again, “Don’t be so rude…”

“Sorry… She just scares me.” He snickered, grabbing my sleeve, “C’mon, lets get drinks.”

I was kind of thankful he had grabbed my sleeve, otherwise I would have lost him. It wasn’t that there wasn’t enough room for everyone to be here, it was the fact that three fourths of the people here were drunk, meaning reckless dancing, lack of an ability to walk, and overall just complete inconsiderate idiocy.

_Welcome to a real college party, Marco Bott_. I thought sarcastically.

We finally struggled our way to the drinks and Jean quickly grabbed two beers out of a cooler, thrusting one into my chest, “Take it.”

I didn’t want it, but I took it from him all the same, “I’m not drinking this.”

Jean smirked, “Yes you are.”

He took the bottle from me again, pulled the cap off with his teeth, handed it back to me, and did the same to his, “Already open, you’d be wasting it if you didn’t drink it.”

I gave him a playful glare. He just smiled, taking a swig of his, “Aaahh.”

I looked at the dark liquid in the bottle and sighed, thinking really hard. Finally, I tipped the bottle to my lips and poured some of the stuff into my mouth.

I barely swallowed it. That stuff was so gross. I’d had a little taste of beer on accident at Armin’s party, but I hadn’t swallowed it, and now the taste was stuck in my throat, “Jean, how do you drink this shit?”

He grinned, “You forget about the taste and enjoy the buzzy feeling it gives your body.”

I hadn’t gotten a buzzy feeling, “Um. I didn’t feel “buzzy.”” I said, scowling at him.

“Drink the whole thing, and _then_ tell me you don’t feel buzzy.” He snickered.

I continued drinking the poison and once I’d tipped back the last drops, I was feeling it. I had a dull feeling in my mind, and I hate to admit it, but I kind of liked it. It slowed my brain from constantly thinking, “Feelin’ it?”

I nodded and he grabbed me another, “I probably shouldn’t drink anymore…” I murmured, not sure I wanted to feel more dull than I did now (which really wasn’t much).

“Fine, I bet you’d lose it after the second bottle anyways.” He shrugged, moving to put it back into the cooler.

I stopped him, taking his comment as a challenge, “Give it here.”

Before I realized what little game he was playing, I’d downed a beer and a half, and was feeling very much on the tipsy side, “Mmk, Marco you should probably stop…” Jean smirked at my slightly slurred speech.

“Why? I… I can take more.” I felt slow everywhere, it was kind of cool, really.

“Nah, lets not.” Jean chuckled, “I really don’t want you to humiliate yourself at a public party.”

I sighed and looked around me. There were people around me dancing, talking, drinking, eating…

Mostly dancing, though.

The alcohol had made me kind of brave, “Jean, do you know how to dance?”

He looked up at me and swirled the alcohol in his bottle, “Not very well, why?”

“'Cause I wanna dance.” I said, watching a couple slow dance off in their own little private part of the woods where the colorful lights didn’t quite fill the darkness.

Jean cocked an eyebrow at me, “Find a partner then.”

I smiled, “Jean, dance with me!”

He looked kind of shocked, “Okay, letting you drink was a bad idea. You better not be an affectionate drunk.”

I pouted, “I’m not drunk… Just… Tipsy. C’mon, dance with me, Jean.” I said, leaning my elbow against a tree and resting my chin in my palm.

“No, Marco.” He laughed.

“Yes, Jean.” I laughed as well, “C’mon! You made me wear my goofy glasses to this thing _and_ made me drink. You owe me this.”

Jean looked kind of sheepish, and I got kind of excited. He was considering it! It wasn’t that weird was it? I’d never slow danced before, and I just wanted to see how it was done, “Pwitty pwease?” I pouted at him and gave him big puppy dog eyes.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well… Fine… but we definitely aren’t dancing around all these people.”

I smiled wide, “Yay!”

He lead me away from the tables and the noise until we were pretty far out of sight of the party, but still in earshot of the noise and music, “I dunno know how to dance, so this is like… A lesson, if that makes you feel better about it.” I chuckled.

Jean rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah… Okay, do you want to know how to dance the formal looking one or the casual looking one?”

“Casual!” I said, almost stumbling over nothing.

Jean rolled his eyes again, “God, you’re so drunk.”

“I’m still conscious, aren’t I?” I snorted.

“Yeah, but you’re bold… A lot bolder than shy, sober Marco.” He smirked.

“Eh, not really.” I responded, “C’mon, show me how to dance.”

He nodded sheepishly, “Do you want to be the girl or the boy? You know what, you’re going to be the girl. Just because you’re the drunk one.”

I laughed, “Fine, fine.”

“S-so… The “girl” puts her hands… Here.”

He moved my hands to rest on his shoulders and suddenly, it was funny. I was taller than Jean was, but I was the girl. I started laughing, “What?” Jean asked, blushing a bit.

“I’m taller than you, but I’m the girl! S-sorry, I just found it funny…” I calmed my laughs.

“Oh shut up, pretend you’re shorter.” He chuckled, “Then, the boy’s hands go… Here.”

His hands rested on my sides, close to my hips, and lots of things flooded my thoughts. His hands are warm. His touch feels good. His hands are strong. Why do I like this so much? Probably because I’m drunk.

Jean glanced up at me and I could see pink dusting his cheeks, “You got that?”

“Got what?” I asked, worried I’d missed something.

“Where the hands go.”

“Oh, yeah. I got it.”

He nodded, “G-good. Then… You basically just… Sway with the music… Or, that’s how I’ve always done it.

I nodded, and to our luck, a slow song had come on the radio. Well, I thought it was to our luck.

Jean applied slight pressure to my left side and we began swaying to the beat of the music. I looked at Jean and noticed that light from the large bonfire was reflecting off his face. The warm light lit up his features magnificently, and I just looked at him.

His sandy hair had gained an orange tint, and the pink of his cheeks was magnified by the fire. Shadows were deepened and the contrast between dark and light was exceptional. His eyes were reflective of the light and his pupils shrank, making his irises seem to glow. The tawny shade of his eyes mingled with the orange of the fire to make a gorgeous, shiny color in his currently shy eyes.

What caught my interest the most, though were his lips. They were moving softly as he counted out the beat of the music. It seemed he was desperate to not make any mistakes, like this was important to him for some reason. I’m sure I was just jumping to conclusions. I was drunk.

I couldn’t get over his lips though! It was mesmerizing to watch them count out the beat, _one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four_.

I could feel myself leaning in for no particular reason. Maybe to see his eyes better, maybe to watch his lips, maybe to study the shadows that changed and shifted on his face, but either way, the song ended and we broke apart, “Thank you, Jean.” I said, smiling at him.

He scratched his ear and didn’t make eye contact with me, “Y-yeah… No problem…” He stammered.

We made our way back to the main clearing of the party to continue having fun, but I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d had my first dance ever, yes, my very first, and it had been with my friend. My ‘best’ friend, I thought at the time.

I had shared my first dance ever with Jean Kirschtein, and despite how he talked like he knew exactly what he was doing, that he’d done it before, I felt it had been his first as well. This would later be proven to be the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally wrote a long chapter. :0 IT'S A MIRACLE. XD 
> 
> I'm thinking I'll be able to do three updates this week... Maybe. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. The Day I Learned That Alcohol Fucking Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco is a incapacitated by a hangover and Jean tries to help out.

I woke up the next morning after a less-than-restful sleep to see Jean propped up against the side of his bed sitting on the floor next to my mattress sketching. I groaned softly, "G'morning, sleeping beauty." Jean chuckled, snapping his sketch book shut.

"Shut up..." I grumbled, sitting up.

I gasped quietly as a headache so sudden it felt like a ton of bricks just fell on me struck behind my left, "Agh..."

Jean patted my back, smirking cockily, "'I won't get drunk' my ass, Marco Bodt..."

"You shut your mouth, Jean... I took care of the cut on your back  _and_ kept Cinnamon Paws a secret... I think you owe me one." I grinned up at him and his light brown eyes narrowed dangerously.

".... You son of a bitch." 

"My mother is  _not_ a bitch." I stated matter-of-factly, laying back down in hopes of soothing the pounding in my head, "God, why does it hurt so bad?"

"This, this right here, is a hangover, and I'm gonna nurse you through it so you know how to deal with them."

He looked so fucking proud of himself, like he won a medal or something, "Why so smug?" I asked, almost bitterly.

"I managed to get Marco Bodt drunk. I managed to get Mr. Angel to become intoxicated, and I think of that as a fucking achievement."

"Sometimes I really don't like you, Jean..." I chuckled softly, closing my eyes.

The small amounts of sunlight streaming through the blinds hurt my eyes and made my head hurt even worse, my stomach also hurt and I tried to focus on keeping that under control so I didn't let go of the emptiness in my stomach.  _Maybe if I eat something it'll feel better..._ "Jean?"

"Hm?" He'd returned to his sketching.

"Can you get me something to eat?"

"I don't think we have anything easy on the stomach..."

"I saw Saltine crackers in there at one point."

Jean's eyes went wide, "No. We do _not_ touch Reiner's Saltines. He'd murder me."

I gave him one of the strangest looks I think I'd ever given any human being alive, " _Excuse_ me?"

Jean sighed, "Riener loves Saltine crackers. Like, I'm surprised he's dating Bertholdt instead of going off with a box of those crackers. Reiner also made rules, and rule number one is that no one, not even Bertholdt, is to touch his Saltine crackers, or he will break them."

"... What are the other rules?"

"Rule number two, don't break shit, and rule number three, the bathroom is a partially holy place. If you fucking clog the toilet, you fucking unclog the damn toilet before anyone else needs to use it. His words exactly."

Alright, so I shouldn't have asked... Those are some dumb ass rules right there.

Which... I guess I expected really, "What other quirks does Reiner have besides an attraction to Saltine crackers edging on the side of sexual?"

Jean snorted, "He has a really strange love of parrots. He's never even owned one but apparently he's wanted one since he was like four."

"... What kind of parrot?" Why do I keep edging this on? I do remember that curiosity killed the cat...

"Rainbow macaw."

"Why that one?"

"He claims it's his spirit animal... and that it said so in a fortune cookie..."

I laughed. Hard. So hard that my head felt like it had split in half. Imagining Reiner standing tall and proud with this big ass rainbow colored, screeching bird sitting on his head was literally one of the best things I had thought about in a while. 

Jean chuckled and smiled at me, "Alright, anyways, food... Food for Marco... I'll just get a Poptart."

I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling (bad idea, by the way), "But I'm sick of Poptarts..."

"You had them once you baby. You're getting a Poptart and you're going to eat it." 

"Alright, alright... Fine, mom." I said.

As soon as "Mama Jean" left the room I felt that all too well known feeling in the pit of my stomach. My throat felt tight and I stumbled up, feeling sweaty.  _Shitshitshitshitshitshittttttttttt_ was my only thought as I stumbled as fast as my currently uncoordinated body would allow me to go. I fell to my knees in front of the toilet and let loose the last things left my stomach, which wasn't much in terms of solids.

"Marco!!" Jean came skidding around the corner.

Because linoleum floors, speed, and socks don't mix well, I looked out of the corner of my teary vision to see my two-tone haired companion slip and fall ungracefully to the floor with a resounding " _FUCK_."  _  
_

I've never laughed while recovering from vomiting but there I was, a pale, trembling, sweaty mess laughing at the biggest fucking nerd I'd ever met in my entire life, "You frikkin loser..." I mumbled and wiped my mouth with toilet paper, leaning back against the wall.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm trying to help you here." Jean huffed, touching his head.

He sat next to me and told me to lean forward, so I did and he started to rub my back, "My mom would do this for me when I got sick and it always made me feel better..." Jean murmured softly.

I sighed and took in steady breaths of air, "It feels good... Thank you, Jean..."

I felt a small smile form on my lips and my stomach felt weird. I was worried I would throw up again, but this was a... nice weird, "You're welcome... feel better?"

"Much, yes..."

I glanced up at him and saw a smile on his face, "Good! So, you still want that Poptart or?..."

I inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, "I'll take it. No promises I'll finish it though."

He laughed, "Don't worry about that. It's okay. Drink water also, so you have liquid in you other than the remains of alcohol."

"You sure know a lot about this..." I chuckled, letting him help me stand and back into my bed.

"Yeah, I've had my fair share of hangovers." He said, smirking.

"How many?"

".... Four...." 

"Yeah, your 'fair share'..."

"Shut up, Marco." He pouted like a baby and I couldn't help but laugh.

"You talk big, Jean, but I don't think you're really as tough as you pretend to be."

"What?! What do you think you're talking about, Bodt? I'm plenty tough! Tough as fuckin' nails in fact!" He crossed his arms defiantly and glowered at me, "I could throw you out the window if I wanted to. I don't, but I could if I wanted..."

"I don't mean physically, Jean. I mean emotionally I guess. You act all tough and stuff but you're really just a cuddly teddy bear." I smirked.

Jean was getting flustered. His ears and cheeks were gaining a pinkish color to them, "I-I am not a teddy bear..."

"Right, right, I forgot, you prefer rabbits." I grinned and picked up Cinnamon Paws off his bed.

"Put Cinna Paws down right now." He glared at me.

I hugged the stuffed animal to my chest and looked at him with big eyes, "Cinna Paws?..."

"His short name, put him down." 

"No. I'm sick, I need something to cuddle with."

"You're not sick, you're recovering from being drunk."

"You're the one who  _let_ me get drunk..."

"Yeah, and I also danced with you, put my rabbit down..."

He realized what he'd said a little too late and uncomfortably shifted his feet. I felt a slight blush rise to my cheeks. That's right, he had danced with me. I'd almost forgotten already... He wasted his first dance with me.

"R-right... I remember that... S-sorry about that by the way... I didn't really know what I was doing..." I murmured, setting his rabbit back down on the bed.

"It's f-fine..." 

He looked like he was going to say more. His mouth opened and then closed a couple times with a soft  _clack_ sound, "What?" I asked softly.

"N-nothin'. Doesn't matter. Let me go back and get that Poptart. You lay down."

Suddenly my words rang in my head  _I need something to cuddle with..._ Jean's name followed quickly after. 

_What?! No!! Marco you can't fuckin' snuggle with you're best friend just because you don't feel good. That's so weird. Stop it with this weird shit._

That weird feeling came back into my stomach and I realized what it was finally. It was that nervous flittery feeling I used to get when I asked out the girl I liked, the butterflies thing... 

_SHIT._

This was bad. This was really really bad. Damnit, Marco, there you fuckin' go. 

I was scared. Very scared.

Strike one, I'd broken my whole not liking anyone rule.

Strike two, I'd fallen for my best friend like in those cheesy movies.

Stroke three,  _I'd fallen for a guy._ _  
_

No, it couldn't be! I hardly knew him! I hadn't even been close friends with him for that long! there was no way, no fucking way. It wasn't possible, you can't just start liking something that quickly, it goes against everything that makes sense! Crushes are supposed to develop with time, not just instantaneously, right?! Right! Totally right! And liking your closest friend is totally against the rules. It just can't happen, especially when he's a straight guy, right?! But... the dance at the party... Felt so... No, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening. School hasn't even started yet!!!

_I'm fucking screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really short and fluffy... I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING SO INACTIVE. I've been busy finshing school, being in summer school, and the fact that I didn't have my own personal laptop since I turned in my school one plays a huge role in the fact that there hasn't been an update. This fic has hit a little over 1,000 hits and I'm so amazed and seriously greatful. Thank you all so much for sticking with this even without an update in months!! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there to you lovely people who took the time to read the first chapter of this JeanMarco Fanfiction! :D I'm new to Archive of Our Own but not the world of writing Fanfiction... But this is my first JeanMarco, so I hope you enjoy! Please leave comments kudos if you liked the story so far, and please point out to me what I could do better and any errors you see and I'll definitely fix them in later chapters I hope to post! Also... Sorry if Lucas's speech was hard to understand with that cute little lisp of his. :P (I may change the name of this Fanfiction if I can come up with something better... Just a btw. XD) 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! Thank you again for reading! :3


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